Chromatic Silence
by kendralikesgreen
Summary: Sometimes letting the screams out will hurt you more than keeping silent. GWHP, after HBP.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the world of _Harry Potter_, they belong to a certain Ms. Rowling.  
**Thanks to my betas ReadingRobyn and No_Hugs_Peach!**

**Prologue**

Most witches and wizards live in a place of peace. They have magical cures for diseases and rarely even attempt activities that could cause them harm. Of course sometimes, even with magic, some may sustain burns and others might fall off their broomsticks and have to have some sort of care. That's where Saint Mungo's comes into play.

Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries is the ideal place that all witches and wizards go to fix any well…injuries they might unfortunately come upon. With the supreme healers they have on staff nothing is too much or too gruesome and anything is repairable for the body that is Saint Mungo's.

Well…almost anything.

Within Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries is a wing that nobody talks about. This wing is always ghostly and cold, the nurses and healers avoid doing their rounds there until the last possible minute, they don't go in alone. Their behavior is entirely understandable. People, people being witches and wizards, know that a wing for the medically insane exists, but some of them don't understand the extent of some of these patients' injuries. When people have suffered intense psychological damage, and not the kind that live in the Closed Ward, they are moved to the Shadow Wing.

Nurse Celia Cornwall had worked at Saint Mungo's for almost three months. She was a cheery brunette and was everyone's favorite. Some say that she could've done anything after graduating with top grades from Hogwarts, but she chose to be a Saint Mungo's nurse. Patients were requesting her after her third week, the healers knew her by name, and the other nurses knew to ask her for specific details on her patients. Celia was quickly becoming the light of the hospital.

It was a Thursday after Christmas and there was a light snowfall but the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds making it a rather lovely day. Celia was returning to work after having a bit of time off to visit her family for the holidays. She had tied on her white cap and was walking briskly down the hallway towards the magical burns unit when a tall man stepped directly in front her and stopped her.

"Nurse Cornwall?"

Celia nodded, not recognizing the healer that stood in front of her. "Yes, that's me. How can I assist you?"

He straightened his posture and looked her up and down with hard grey eyes. "My name is Ebenezer Earnest. I'm the head healer in the Shadow Wing."

Celia felt her eyes widen as she stared at Mr. Earnest, who remained unaffected. "Oh," she stuttered. "I see."

"Every few years we find a nurse or two that show promise and offer them to assist us in the Shadow Wing. And this time, Nurse Cornwall, we've chosen you. Now I know you might feel compelled to give me an instant yes but I must caution you about this. It's not an easy job, dealing with the insane," he stated, leveling his wire spectacles as Celia stared at him.

Mr. Earnest handed her a card with his name on it. "If you're at all interested show this card to the elevator operator, he'll take you to the wing."

"Wait," Celia called out as he walked away. "Why would I? I mean, what does it have to offer?"

Mr. Earnest turned around, still not showing any emotion. "Nurse Cornwall, it's an honor to be asked to join the staff among the Shadow Wing. The nurses who've worked here for years would kill to have this opportunity. Yet, we chose you; you have only worked here for three months. Still we think you'd be best to join the staff of the Shadow Wing. It offers a life working with medical cases unlike those you've ever seen before. Of course, you may not be able to handle it, in which case, we'll be happy to give the job to somebody else."

Celia furrowed her brows. "I'm a quick learner and I'm strong. I'm sure anything you throw at me I'll be able to handle."

Mr. Earnest nodded sharply. "We'll see. Theresa!" He called out.

Instantly a short woman with long grey hair appeared at his side. Her nametag read Theresa Dewar. Celia didn't recognize her.

"Nurse Cornwall has accepted the position in the Shadow Wing, you'll cover her rounds," he instructed before turning back to Celia. "Follow me."

Celia followed Mr. Earnest to the employee's only elevator. She was nervous, unsure in the decision she had made was the right one. As the doors opened, her apprehension didn't falter, but she stepped into the elevator behind Mr. Earnest anyway.

"You know where to take us," Mr. Earnest said to the bellman, who nodded curtly and quickly closed the doors.

"Excuse me, where exactly is the Shadow Wing?" Celia asked timidly.

"Below the ground floor," he said, not looking at Celia. "It's not listed."

"Why?"

Mr. Earnest turned to Celia with the same cold expression in his eyes. "Because visitors are not welcome."

"What about family members?"

"You think the family _wants_ to see their loved ones in this kind of a condition. There are no visitors." With that he turned away from Celia facing the doors of the elevator.

They rode in complete stillness until the high-pitched (voice?) of the elevator broke their silence. The bellman, who would normally announce the floor with cheer just looked to the floor as they exited, quickly shutting the doors and hurrying the elevator back up to the above ground floors.

Celia tried not to stare at what was before her. This floor looked nothing like the rest of Saint Mungo's. The walls were all painted bright white and hanging, swinging lamps were suspended from the ceiling. Although she couldn't see what was in them, all along the wall were long windows. Nurses weren't bustling about; families weren't happily getting good news because there weren't any families. In fact, the only other people Celia could see besides herself and Mr. Earnest were two nurses jotting down things on a clipboard and a tall, blonde healer walking towards them.

"Nurse Cornwall, so glad to have you with us," she said, shaking Celia's hand in a firm grasp. "I'm Ms. Greene but you may call me Evelyn."

"Nice to meet you," Celia said slowly.

"Now," Evelyn said, turning to Mr. Earnest. "I think we'll get straight to Miss Christianson, if that's all right with you Mr. Earnest."

Mr. Earnest nodded and started walking down the long hallway that was before them. Just as Celia had suspected, behind the long windows were the patients that dwelled in the Shadow Wing. Their names and disease were labeled boldly across their window as if they were in some kind of zoo. Evelyn and Mr. Earnest seemed to be unaffected but Celia had to force herself not to stare. There was a short wizard that was screaming and writhing in pain, though the soundproof material the wall and glass were made of, kept anyone from hearing him. Another wizard threw himself at the glass as they passed, banging and biting at his window. Celia almost ran back to the elevator as she watched a small witch be subdued and tranquilized.

"Here we are," Evelyn said as they arrived at a room where the blinds had been pulled down over the window. She grabbed a clipboard from a hook on the wall. "Angela Christianson. She was instituted three weeks ago for deliria of an unknown cause. All her parents could tell us was that the hallucinations started after a break up with her boyfriend, who we have yet to get in contact with."

"Hallucinations? And they're bad enough to land her in the Shadow Wing?" Celia scoffed. "Shouldn't she just be in the Closed Ward?"

Evelyn looked up at Celia, a half smile on her face. "Her hallucinations come in dream form. They seem to be able to convince her to believe and do anything. They manipulated her enough for her to try and kill her boyfriend. So no, she shouldn't be in the Closed Ward."

"You see, Celia," Mr. Earnest said in a low voice. "That's what separates these patients from those in the Closed Ward. For most of them, we have no idea what caused or causes their inflictions and they, unlike those in the Closed Ward, are prone to being dangerous."

Celia pursed her lips. "For the sake of being professional, what shall I do then?"

"Miss Christianson isn't dangerous or even abnormal as long as she's awake. It's when she's asleep that we see another form of her. We'd like you to talk to her while she's awake as if you were a friend. Then distribute her daily medication, which consists of a very potent sleeping pill, then we'll join you as we analyze Cisn for today," Evelyn said in a matter-of-fact way.

"So she's a lab rat?" Celia said angrily, as she grabbed the medications and stuffed them into her apron pocket.

"No, she's a girl suffering from a disease that we need to learn more about," Mr. Earnest said monotonously.

"One more thing," Celia said as she put her hand on the doorknob. "What's Cisn?"

"Sara Cisn," Evelyn said, returning the clipboard to its hook and pulling the blinds back. "Sara Cisn is who comes to her in her dreams and tell her things. Sara Cisn is the person or thing we'll be talking to while she's asleep. And don't worry, it's a two-way mirror, you can't see out."

Celia nodded and turned the knob, entering the room of Angela Christianson. The room was painted light blue, like all the other rooms and had a bed and a nightstand. Unlike the other rooms there were textbooks laying on a desk and another bookshelf that had muggle paperbacks and even letters on its shelves. There was even a green rug on the floor, making the beige carpet seem dirty.

Angela Christianson was curled up on an armchair, another commodity not found in any other room, reading one of her muggle paperbacks. She was a thin girl with black hair that curled loosely. She wasn't as pale as Celia had expected and her cheeks were surprisingly rosy. She wore a pair of small, oval shaped glasses and looked up at Celia with brown eyes.

"Hi," she said in a timid voice, marking her page and setting the book down on the nearby desk.

"Hello, I'm Nurse Cornwall," Celia said, still surprised at how normal Angela seemed.

"What's your real name?" Angela asked as she pulled on the sleeves of her blue sweater.

"Celia. Celia Agatha Cornwall."

Angela looked back at her, her deep brown eyes calm. "Well, Celia Agatha Cornwall, I'm Angela Margareta Christianson."

"Nice to meet you." Celia smiled, and pulled up the desk chair to give herself somewhere to sit. "I'm pleasantly delighted that you're not…"

"Crazy. Biting at your ankles?" Angela giggled.

Celia let out a quiet chuckle. "Well, yes."

Angela tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear. "I'm delighted about that too. I don't have any desire to bite at your ankles or drool."

Celia burst out laughing but quickly subdued it thinking of the man that threw himself at the glass. "Angela…"

"I know, you have a job to do."

"Well yes, I just…"

"I know what's going on. I've sort of done it before." Angela pulled her legs out from under her, sitting cross-legged. "I slept normally, I dreamt that Carson and I were in a meadow kissing, the sun was shining and everything was perfect. I woke up sometime in the middle of the night and yes, it was because Sara came into the dream. She didn't say much, just that she hated how you all knew about her and we couldn't keep her a secret. She begged me to stop telling about her…" Angela suddenly stopped talking and bit her lip.

"What else did she say?" Celia pressed.

Angela lowered her eyes, staring at the dirty beige carpet. "That if I told you anything more someone else would suffer."

Celia inhaled sharply as she felt the sleeping pill in her pocket. Angela stared longer at the floor as she fiddled with the sleeves of her sweater.

"I'm not crazy, you just don't understand what it's like to be…" she whispered.

"Powerless?" Celia guessed quietly.

Angela's head snapped up and she began nod furiously. "Yes. Powerless and completely incapable. She can take over if she wants to. I don't understand it. And I wouldn't let her, but I can't help it. Ever since Carson left she's been my friend, the only one who understands things."

"Carson was your boyfriend?"

Angela nodded. "About four months after we broke up I met Sara."

"You _met_ Sara? She's an actual person?" Celia said, leaning in closer to Angela.

"I…I don't know exactly," Angela said as she wrung her hands. "She just kind of…appeared out of nothing one day after I saw Carson. She disappeared almost instantly but then that night I started dreaming about me and Carson getting back together. A few nights later Sara started coming into my dreams."

Celia leaned back in her chair, sticking her hand in her pockets and feeling the sleeping pill. "I see."

Angela stood suddenly pacing. "I know it sounds crazy, maybe even unbelievable, but give me the sleeping pill and I'll prove it to you."

Celia shrugged, unsure of what to say. She stood up, straightening her apron and left the room to stand alongside Evelyn, feeling Angela stare at her on the way out.

"You've got a knack for talking with patients, Nurse Cornwall," Evelyn said as she watched Angela stagger to the bed. "Good to have you on staff."

Angela collapsed on the bed, her black hair fanning around her face. Celia turned to Evelyn and Mr. Earnest, fighting the urge to bite her nails.

"That must be one…powerful sleeping pill," she stuttered.

Mr. Earnest nodded. "Oh yes, I'm sure we'll be seeing Cisn anytime now."

"Or Angela in a dream state, which can happen," Evelyn said.

They all watched in silence as Angela stood slowly from the bed. Her head was hung and facing the ground while her hair hung in front of her face.

"I know you can hear me," she said in a low voice. "Don't talk. Just listen. I want you to let Angela out."

She kept walking towards them until she was right in front of the window.

"I want you to let her go and if you don't you'll see me."

She raised her head and all three of them gasped in sharply. Angela's once deep brown eyes were black.

"I don't like being kept in here. If I can change her appearance, think of what else I can do. If I can make her try and kill someone she supposedly loves, what else can I make her do? And if I can do this I can come in without her will. So I'm going to tell you this…nicely. Let her GO!"

Angela's body launched onto the glass and started repeatedly pounding on it with her fists. Evelyn quickly shut the blinds and turned away.

"We'll deal with this later. In the mean time, you check on Mr. Taylor, he's three rooms down. Just don't let him see any of your needles," Evelyn called over her shoulder as she walked away with Mr. Earnest. "Don't worry, Miss Christianson is going to get better. We'll get to the bottom of this."

Still, throughout the next two years that Celia Cornwall worked in the shadow wing, they didn't get to the bottom of Angela's condition. Sara Cisn was never able to fully take her over while Angela was awake, but could only make glimpses of herself appear. When Angela was asleep, however, Sara could go so far as to change Angela's entire appearance.

One day, while Celia was doing rounds, she noticed something about Angela. She was gone. Celia was later informed that Angela had hung herself, committing suicide. They cleaned out her room, and moved in a witch that was under suspicion for eating her husband.

But Celia never forgot the day when Sara had first shown her face. She would just reach into her apron pocket and feel the sleeping pill that she didn't give Angela, proving that willpower could be broken. Then Nurse Celia Cornwall would go back to her rounds and shudder, hoping she'd never see anything like that ever again.


	2. One

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the world of _Harry Potter_, they belong to a certain Ms. Rowling.  
**Thanks to my betas ReadingRobyn and No_Hugs_Peach!**

Ginny Weasley pulled her light red hair through an elastic ponytail. She sighed and leaned back in her seat on the train. She yawned and stretched her arms, worried about how her appearance would be after her nap. She grabbed her bag, opening the pocket that held her compact and her tube of mascara. She quickly powered her nose and cheeks and swiped the black liquid over her eyelashes. She hadn't always worn makeup, but recently she'd started obsessing over her appearance. Recently, a lot of things had changed about Ginny Weasley.

"Ginny? Oh good, you're awake," Luna whispered, sliding in the compartment and plopping down on the seat across from her.

Ginny nodded, forcing a smile. "Hi Luna."

"Hi." Luna grabbed her issue of _The Quibbler _and furiously paged through it. As much and Ginny had tried coaxing her otherwise, Luna still insisted on reading it upside-down. Even though she attempted to get Luna to conform, she quietly admired her friend's strength to do things just the way she wanted.

"Here, look at this." Luna thrust the magazine in Ginny's face. Ginny sighed and took the magazine from Luna's hands, flipping it upright and trying not to laugh.

"Horoscopes? Since when does your father publish this kind of stuff?" Ginny giggled and handed the magazine back to Luna.

"No!" Luna rolled her eyes and flipped the magazine back upside-down. "I'm a Capricorn and I'm going to encounter a wizard suffering from amnesia near the end of the month. He will most likely be lonely and want some sort of a friendship, be open," she read with a confirmative nod. She placed it on her lap and folded her hands in a very matter of fact way.

Ginny nodded and rested her head on the wall. "That's great Luna. What's mine?"

"You will…" Luna started and her gaze grew sympathetic. Ginny felt her heartbeat quicken as she saw Luna's sad face. She thought for a second that it might be about Harry, as stupid as that was.

"Oh dear you're going to get a bad case of the chicken pox and mix it in with some sort of creature bite. You poor thing! I'll be sure to make you soup. My father always makes me soup when that happens."

Ginny smiled at Luna, she had grown used to her saying outlandish things like that. Luna tucked the magazine in her bag and pulled her legs up onto the seat. She grinned at Ginny and cocked her bright blonde head to one side.

"Why are you wearing makeup?"

Ginny instinctively touched her face and glanced at her bag. "I don't know…does it look that bad?"

Luna shook her head. "No, it doesn't look bad. But makeup is what girls with no faces wear. Or mermaid's who've suddenly sprouted legs but need to cover the scales." She glanced suspiciously at Ginny's bare legs.

"I'm not a mermaid, and I have a face. I just want to look…"

"Powdered?"

"Perfect." Ginny pulled her hair out of the elastic, only to put it up once more. She twisted a strand of hair that hung in front of her eyes, not looking at the always inquisitive Luna.

"Why perfect? You've always been pretty, perfect seems boring. Not to mention completely unobtainable." Luna tossed her almost white hair over her shoulder, still smiling. "But I'm going to go find Neville; he said something about Trevor that I found curious."

Ginny shrugged and waved to her, smiling at Hermione as she entered the compartment just as Luna slipped out. "All right, I'll talk to you later."

Hermione tucked several locks of loosely curled hair behind her ears. Ginny couldn't help but remember the bush her hair used to be. As Hermione grew older her hair became tamable and her overbearing ways become more compliant. Ginny thought of Hermione as being her closet friend, the one person she could actually talk to and confide in. Growing up in a house full of boys, it was nice to finally have someone she could almost consider a sister.

"Hey Gin," Hermione plopped herself down next to Ginny. 'Gin' was the nickname Harry and Ron had come up for her after they first tried the muggle drink. Ginny hated it and refused to drink anymore of the stuff that tasted like a pine tree after taking a tiny sip, instantly coining the name.

Ginny groaned, closing her eyes. "You know I hate that stuff."

"Good, you hate you. Always healthy."

"Hermione," Ginny opened one eye, glaring at her. "I cannot believe you'd actually call me something my _brother _created."

Hermione shrugged. "It's clever really, I like it."

"You like calling me a name that's the same name as an alcoholic beverage which caused my brother, Ronald, to attempt to stick his tongue down your throat. You actually think that's clever? It's the first three letters of my name, it's unoriginal," Ginny furrowed her brow, frowning at Hermione who grinned.

"Yes, I do think it's clever," She rested her head on the wall of the compartment. "And you'll have to remember that I kissed Ron too."

"Yeah, I was trying to forget about that." Ginny pulled her knees up to her chest, placing her chin on top of them. "What do you see in my brother anyway?"

Hermione shrugged, her small smile not faltering. "Probably the same thing you see in Harry."

Ginny instantly sucked in her breath and closed her eyes, hearing Hermione do the same.

"Gin…" But Ginny shook her head to keep her quiet.

After Dumbledore's funeral when Harry had broken their relationship off Ginny had pretended that things were all right. She kept on going, never addressing the ache that lingered in her heart and never allowing herself to be sad. That summer, when Hermione was visiting and Harry came along unexpectedly, Ginny had experienced her first panic attack. Hermione was the only one who knew about Ginny's unfaltering feelings for Harry and how the way he ended the relationship had damaged her.

She couldn't help it. She wanted to be able to control herself and put a constraint on things and not feel like she was going to choke on her thoughts at each moment of each day. She wanted to be able to be normal around him and might even be friends with him, but the way she felt about him made that impossible in any way shape or form.

After closing her eyes and breathing deep for a few moments she opened them again and smiled weakly at Hermione. "I'm all right."

Hermione pursed her lips skeptically. "Are you sure?"

Ginny nodded reassuringly. "Yeah, I am. Let's talk about something else."

"Ginny…you know you can't avoid him. You do sort of attend the same school."

"Thanks, I got that," Ginny snapped.

Hermione blinked, only the look in her big doe eyes showed the flinch she felt at Ginny's harsh tone, but she brushed it aside and shook her head. "All right, I think we've stopped. Share a carriage with me?"

Ginny nodded and followed Hermione off the train, looking at her shoes and no one else. She breathed in sharply as the cold night air rushed over her warm face. She hadn't realized how hot she had been inside the train. She was suddenly glad for the thick material her mother had used to make her new robes. Only Hermione and Mrs. Weasley had noticed the few pounds she had shed over the summer, though a few pounds on her already tiny frame looked like a lot more.

"This one, come on Gin!" Hermione called as she pulled herself into one of the carriages.

Ginny nodded and followed Hermione to the carriage and plopped into the cushy carriage seat. She smiled at Hermione and her brother until she noticed the green eyes next to Ron. She stared into them for a few moments of shock, she couldn't help it.

"Hey," Harry said quietly.

"I didn't think you'd be back," she whispered, her brown eyes instantly shooting to the carriage floor.

She saw his foot scuff the carpet. She instantly withdrew her feet underneath the carriage seat. She didn't want to accidently touch him, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to contain the tears if she did.

"I figured a diploma of some sort would be good," He laughed and brushed it aside, clearly wanting to leave the matter at that.

She nodded weakly, leaning her head against the cool window. "I think I'm just going to sleep."

"Gin, it's only a half hour ride to the castle," Ron said laughing.

Ginny quickly glared at Ron. "That's a half hour more than I have now then, isn't it."

She shut her eyes tight, knowing there was no way she could possibly sleep when green eyes were across the way from her watching her intently.

He hadn't spoken to her at all when he had come to visit. She still felt the tug at her heart when she thought about how she would pass him on the staircase and he would just look at the wall, as if it was the most interesting piece of architecture he'd ever seen.

"Harry's not good with words," Hermione had said, trying to comfort her. "There are a million things he'd want to say to you, he just can't figure out how. When he's ready and knows exactly how to say everything he's feeling he will, I'm sure of it. He's hurting too Ginny, just know that."

Ginny knew Hermione had just been trying to help, but the fact was it didn't. It made her feel worse somehow, like if she hadn't kissed him after the Quidditch match none of this would have happened.

So instead of addressing the problem Ginny pretended to sleep. She pretended to sleep so that she could turn their conversations, no matter how trivial, into white noise. She repeated spells over in her head and thought about the horoscopes Luna had read her. But every time he spoke all she could hear, all she could see, were those green eyes staring at her. Certain things were impossible to ignore or forget.


	3. Two

The world and characters of Harry Potter belong to Ms. Rowling.  
Thank you to my betas, ReadingRobyn and No_Hugs_Peach. (there could be changes to these chapters that have already been posted.

Also, if you can, **please review**. I would love to hear what people are thinking. :)  
.:x:.

Ginny let out a shaky sigh and leaned her head against the wall of the girl's lavatory. She concentrated on taking in slow, deep breaths and not hyperventilating. Even though she was dying inside from embarrassment she couldn't have helped it. He wasn't supposed to be in her Charms, class that was her safe spot. If she'd been prepared to see him maybe she would not have responded so strongly. As soon as he'd strutted in she had panicked and fled, nearly crushing into poor Professor Flitwick on the way out.

She hadn't known that that would've been her reaction. She thought she was stronger, more composed, yet she was the one who'd been shattered. Ginny felt a hot tear slip down her cheek. She instantly struck her head against the wall with all her might, biting her lip and hissing as pain exploded through her. She closed her eyes, trying to relax. It wasn't that she was overcome with sadness, she was angry. He shouldn't have so much control, she shouldn't let him.

She was tired, so tired, which made it all the more difficult to believe what she saw in front of her. A girl, dressed in muggle clothing with long, curly, dark hair was sitting across the lavatory on the edge of a sink. She blinked and kept staring at Ginny behind long lashes. She said nothing but twirled a lock of hair around one finger. Ginny blinked again and the girl was gone.

"Great, now I'm seeing people," she muttered bitterly to herself.

She stood, her knees were still wobbly and her head aching. She walked over to a sink, avoiding staring at her reflection as she splashed water on her face.

"Ginny," Hermione pushed through the door, her brown eyes full of worry and concern. "Are you okay?"

Ginny let out a shaky sigh and walked slowly over to Hermione's open arms. "I almost passed out when I saw him, do you think I'm okay?"

Ginny leaned her head on Hermione's shoulder, cringing when Hermione's maternal fingers rubbed over the lump that was forming on the top of her head. She pulled back, raking her fingers through her hair and sighed.

"I supposed I have to go back, don't I," she whispered, refusing to meet Hermione's gaze.

She looked to the wall as Hermione placed a nurturing hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to do anything. I'll help you stay caught up; I won't let you fall behind. It's probably better that you go back to the dormitory and lay down for bit."

Ginny nodded and brushed past Hermione. She quickly wiped the hot tear that was falling down the side of her face off her cheek. She was so angry at herself for falling apart. _He_ was supposed to be suffering; she _wanted _him to hurt the way she did. She wished she could put a spell on everything and make him know how she felt, make him feel like he was about to break every time he saw her for a change.

And then he appeared in front of her.

His hair was still messy and uncontrollable, hanging in front of his eyes and hiding the tops of his round glasses. Some had found his glasses nerdy or odd, but it had always been something she loved. He was taller; she hadn't been able to tell in the carriage and had burst from the room to quickly to notice earlier. He looked like Harry, but he was clearly not a little boy anymore. She tried to breathe and focus on not remembering how it had felt to rest in his arms, but the memories flooded in too rapidly and boldly for her to handle. So Ginny did the only thing that was clear to her.

She ran.

She fled past him and the other students, not caring at the stares she was attracting. She felt her heart pound and could only hear his voice in her head as she flew from him.

_"You're really something Gin, you know that? I cannot believe after all the years of acting like you didn't mean anything, you still love me. You're still here, and I just can't believe that it's with me."_

She started hyperventilating, holding her stomach and trying to block out anything remotely sweet that he'd ever said to her. It didn't matter if it was a vast, romantic speech or just him saying he liked her socks, she did not want to hear it.

"Kelpie Hoof," she gasped to the Fat Lady, who gave her a concerned look before swinging open.

Ginny kept running, past a group of second years and even past her brother before bursting through the door of the dormitory and collapsing on her bed. She panted for a few minutes before catching some of her breath and closing her eyes, and resting against the pillows, wishing she could sink into them and vanish.

She was too tired, far too tired.

_I'll just close my eyes for a minute_.

Ginny fell into a meadow with a light thump. She stood, brushing grass of her favorite pair of brown corduroy pants. She hadn't remembered ever putting them on, but she didn't care. Somehow, she knew this was a dream and that the peace she felt wouldn't last. She stretched her arms, squinting at the bright sunlight and marveling at the serene world around her. She figured she might as well enjoy it while she could.

She looked to the left and saw a small forest that was glimmering with lights that she thought looked like fairies. Whatever the lights were, they darted around the twisting branches making the forest seem inviting, not threatening like the Forbidden Forest on the grounds. She looked to the right and saw a small stream, babbling itself around rocks covered with soft, light green moss. There were little white flowers covering the ground all the way to the horizon. It was perfection, that was the only way to describe it. She was peaceful, far from tears and felt, for once in this day, like everything could work out to be all right.

"What is this place?" she wondered out loud, staring into the distance.

"It's your own utopia," a voice said from behind her.

Ginny turned and gasped suddenly. It was the girl from the bathroom. She was prettier than Ginny remembered, with chocolate colored locks that reached the middle of her back. She was petite and fair and her grey eyes were full of compassion, at least Ginny thought so. Her dress was white and her cheekbones stood out like every girl would want theirs to.

"Excuse me?"

The girl gave a small smile. "You created this place. It's a place you can come to when you're feeling lonely or disconnected or even panicked. It's your own paradise, so to speak. It's the one place where everything will go according to your wishes, to your plans. It can happen when we feel stressed, we being magic folk."

Ginny felt her jaw drop as the girl spoke. "My own paradise? But I was just hysterically crying…"

The girl nodded. "Sometimes, when bad things happen, you need a place to let go in the little bliss you have left. In your case, the only happiness you have is your ability to create. So you created this world, this place where you can be you, this place where everything is perfect and you can trust everything to go your way. You know that old saying 'there's a silver lining to every dark cloud'? Well this is your silver lining."

"If I created this, then who are you?"

"Oh!" the girl threw back her head and laughed, the sunlight danced along her shiny hair. "Pardon me. I'm Lela, Lela Britx and you sort of created me too."

Ginny frowned, confused. "How?"

"You wanted someone who could understand and listen without judging you, right? Someone who would never be bias or have unneeded or unwanted opinions on a situation? That's where I come in. I'm just here to listen and just to be your friend. I'll listen to your stories, and be there when you need me, and I'll give you advice if you want it but never get mad at you for anything," Lela said, a soft breeze ruffling her hair.

Ginny smiled, falling back on the grass that felt more like a pillow than the ground. She flipped over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. "So anything I want, it can happen?"

Lela sat beside her. "Yes, that's how it works. It's one of the luckiest things about being a witch," she laughed. "You provide your own therapy. If you could have anything in the world, what would you want?"

"I'd want Harry here, with me. Just the two of us," she answered instantly. She expected tears to fall but all she felt was tranquility.

Lela smiled and walked away into the taller grass in the meadow. Ginny closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, inhaling the scents of lavender and of surprisingly, clean, freshly washed laundry.

"Is there room for me here?"

Ginny opened her eyes and felt her breath catch in her throat. Standing above her, with a boyish grin on his face, was none other than Harry Potter. She felt herself smile and patting the spot next to her.

"It's you," she murmured, looking at him as he lay down on his back.

"Yeah, at least as far as the last time I checked." He grinned at her, black hair falling in front of his eyes.

Ginny tucked herself into his arms, realizing that this is how they had been five months before. She felt his lips brush her forehead and she smiled, looking up at him.

"I never thought I'd be here with you."

"I never want to leave."

She grinned, kissing his lips lightly and sweetly. "Then we won't. We'll stay here…"

Ginny awoke with a start, feeling the back of her neck and forehead. She was extremely warm, close to breaking into a sweat. She stood up, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

"Forever," she murmured before she let another tear slide down her cheek.

.:x:.

Harry snapped the lock on his trunk closed, he had miraculously finished unpacking. Usually it took him months and even when he thought he was done there would be a pair of shorts or a shirt lingering behind in his suitcase. He hadn't wanted to go out to the common room though, so he shut himself up in the room as much and often as he could for whatever reason he was able to come up with. The common room was questions, questions he couldn't respond to because he wasn't even sure of the answers to them. Yes, retreating was much easier.

"_Why are you here, Potter?"_

"_Weren't you on some sort of mission?"_

"_Well look who's back, chicken out did you?"_

"_Did something bad happen, Harry?"_

"_Are you all right?"_

Whether they were coming from a kind spot or a hostile one, he could not take them. As much as they wanted to no one could understand what he had been through, what he had seen. This included Ron and Hermione and they were the people he considered to be the closest to. Harry leaned against the side of the bed and scuffed the floor with the sole of his shoe. He didn't know when he had become so angst ridden; he didn't know when he went from trying to avenge the people he loved to feeling sorry for himself.

She didn't help the situation at all.

He thought she would understand, he thought she would accept and even appreciate how he was looking out for her family. Instead she ran at the sight of him, ignored his attempts to speak and generally acted like she was a porcelain doll preparing to be pushed from the shelf.

She was acting like a child.

He stood and stretched, pushing thoughts of her from his mind. He kicked his shoes off and pulled his white t-shirt over his head, tossing it over his shoulder on top of the dirty converse. He made his way to the mirror, wanting to see how the damage that had been done was healing. There were bruises covering his arms from the Inferi grabbing at him. Their nails had left nasty scratches on his neck and the backs of his shoulders, though the now black scabs were starting to finally peel off. Harry hadn't wanted to worry Madam Pomfrey with something else to do with dark magic, she had her hands full enough treating children away from the public eye and away from any gaze that could be from a Death Eater.

Hogwarts wasn't crawling with them as he had been expecting, but they were there. Their black hoods stood out amongst the sea of students. McGonagall and Snape had come to some sort of agreement, though Harry never understood how. Snape, the new interim Headmaster, said they were for his protection and, if for nothing else, then to remind the students that there were two sides to this war. McGonagall quickly agreed to let four of them stay, as long no dark marks were conjured and no deaths occurred. She wasn't stupid, she knew if she were to refuse him they would all suffer, and it would be terrible.

Even though the thought of four of _his_ loyal subjects wandering the halls of his beloved school made him want to scream, Harry commended McGonagall for not acting rashly. He would've told Snape to shove it up his arse and probably would have thrown a curse or two his way. The fact was though that the Death Eaters were more just a nuisance; Harry had bigger things to be concerned with. They wouldn't be a problem for much longer anyway.

Harry reached into his book bag and pulled out the last small bottle of his Dittany. Hermione had snuck him some every time she was able to get into Snape's cabinet undetected. He drank the liquid, shuddering at its bitter taste and tossed it on to the bed.

"Evanesco," he muttered, flicking his wand at the bottle. It disappeared instantly.

Harry sank onto the bed he called his own and laid back against the pillows. The scratches began to itch, angry at being rubbed against fabric, but Harry ignored the discomfort. His mind was stuck somewhere else, it was stuck on the one question he couldn't disregard and actually wanted to answer.

"_What do you think will happen to Ginny if you die?"_

Leave it to Luna Lovegood to get inside someone's head. Harry cursed himself for allowing Neville to go on and on about Starthistle, had he not been in that train car he wouldn't have run into Luna and her annoying innocent demeanor. He wouldn't have come across the one person who could easily ask the most heart wrenching question in the most genuine kind of way.

The fact of the matter was that Harry himself was trying to come to terms with just that. Had he been eleven years old and known it would come to this there would have been no question. But now he had something to fight for, and therefore something just as great to lose. No one had ever mentioned that before. People were always saying how feeling love is the biggest advantage against Voldemort, that having compassion and friends was something he and his followers could not comprehend and therefore could not defend themselves against. But what no one ever thought to say was how it made it harder to want to wake up every day and get into the fight in the first place.

Harry grabbed one of Ron's plaid shirts from off the floor, quickly smelling it before buttoning it on. He couldn't help but chuckle at the orange Chudley Cannon's button pinned to the blue shirt, the Keeper on the button waved unenthusiastically at the invisible audience in front of him. Ron was something to lose, Hermione too, Harry thought to himself.

And Ginny Weasley was definitely at the top of that list.


	4. Three

The world and characters of Harry Potter belong to Ms. Rowling.  
Thank you to my betas, ReadingRobyn and No_Hugs_Peach.

**Please Review. **It would really mean a lot to me to hear what you all think. :)  
.:x:.

Her eyes were still looking towards the ground as she made her way back to the Gryffindor common room when she felt a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder. She stopped, silently cursing whoever it was that stopped her from getting to her destination. She slowly turned, willing the irritation from her face and begging herself to look composed and normal. Hermione was in front of her, her eyes full of concern and the same maternal, loving face looking straight at Ginny.

"How are you? I haven't seen you in weeks," Hermione gushed, giving Ginny an awkward hug around the books she was carrying.

Ginny shrugged. "I'm good, I guess. Better than the last time we talked."

"But that's the point," Hermione said firmly as she pulled her hair through an elastic ponytail. "We normally talk every day, and now I haven't even seen you in two weeks. Not since you panicked and went into the washroom for solitude."

Ginny looked to her shoes, pretending her brown ballet flats were the most interesting thing in the world while scuffing the floor with her toe. "I'm sorry…I've just kind of…"

Hermione bent down to Ginny's level, their eyes meeting. "You can tell me, I promise I won't get mad."

Ginny glanced to the side, away from the inquisitive Hermione. She could do it. She could fly into Hermione's arms and tell her everything. She could reveal how she wasn't over Harry and how she craved for him all the time. She could expose how she'd found a dream world where everything was quiet and perfect and she didn't have to worry about a thing. She could tell her secrets to someone and hopefully make it less addicting and maybe it would even make a little bit more sense to her.

But then she heard a voice. A soft voice in her right ear that sent an eerie chill down her spine and made her heart skip a beat.

_Don't trust, don't you dare tell._

She recognized the voice, but she couldn't place it to anyone. She stopped her eyes flickering past Hermione and over behind her right shoulder. There wasn't anyone there. Yet she heard it again, clear as day.

_You can't trust so you can't tell._

So Ginny forced herself to smile at Hermione. "I've been lying low, avoiding having another panic attack. I just need some time."

Hermione frowned, staring at Ginny as if she could see into her soul. "It's about me and Ron isn't it."

"No," Ginny gushed automatically. "I suppose in a way, I know if I see you, I'll see him. But you two are perfect for each other. It'll take some time, but it'll get better, you'll see."

"Optimistic, aren't we?"

Ginny shrugged. "I've got nothing else," she said more audibly than she had intended.

"What?" Hermione said quickly, noticing the change in Ginny's voice.

"Nothing."

They stared at each other for a moment that seemed to last an hour. They were both set on standing their ground. Ginny didn't know why, but she was convinced she couldn't tell Hermione about the odd circumstances behind why she'd suddenly become the vanishing girl. Hermione didn't know why, but she was convinced that there was something horribly wrong with Ginny. They both stared intently into each other's eyes, each of them looking for any sign of weakness.

"God, you're just like your mum, entirely too stubborn," Hermione chuckled.

Ginny shrugged. "I guess, but I've got to go, I'll see you around."

She didn't wait for Hermione's goodbye or the predictable warm and loving hug. She turned on her heel and hurried briskly to the common room. She had survived classes and the suspicious looks from her fellow students. She deserved utopia. She had earned it. If anyone needed a sanctuary it was her and she had found it, and she wasn't about to compromise it for anyone. She loved Hermione and didn't enjoy worrying her, but this was hers and only hers, sometimes secrets were all right to have.

She slammed into the dormitory and sank into her bed, happy to see she was alone and smothered her face into the soft, down pillow. She knew in a few moments she'd be asleep and she'd get to see him. She could be happy and content and not have to focus on hiding anything. She could be free.

And then she breathed deeply and fell.

She landed into a soft pile of leaves, giggling as she pulled them out of her hair and watched them flutter to the ground. She pushed herself from the pile, standing and hearing the satisfying crunches below her feet. It was cooler than it had been the previous time she had visited, but anything that happened in utopia was perfect for that particular day. After feeling the heat from her professors for not living up to their expectations and after being interrogated by Hermione, at least that's what it had felt like, a nice breeze and fresh air was really all Ginny needed.

She walked from the pile, glancing around eagerly, looking for those eyes that made her smile. She flung out her arms as Lela flew into them. Lela, although Ginny wasn't sure she was real, was quickly becoming the youngest Weasley's confidant, even though she couldn't be there with her new found friend all the time.

"For some reason I didn't think you'd come today," Lela said, spinning around so her white skirt rippled in the breeze.

Ginny laughed, tossing her head back. "I always come. This is the one thing I have to look forward to each day."

Lela smiled. Her grey eyes always twinkled with excitement for Ginny's stories like an overly eager child that didn't know enough about the world around her. "Why? Is it not interesting out there?"

"It's interesting enough," Ginny plucked a dandelion from the ground and blew the seeds about in a way that would've made Mrs. Weasley scold her for spreading weeds. "Sometimes it just becomes unbearable."

"Like when people want you to do things," Lela mused, remembering earlier conversations they'd had about McGonagall. The professor had recently been hammering Ginny to 'get her act together' so Ginny would not lose her spot in the running to be Head Girl.

"Or they want you to be someone or act a certain way. It just gets tiring and I can't handle it most of the time," she answered.

"That's why you're here," Lela said firmly in a tone that would challenge Hermione's. "No, that's why we're here. We're your escape."

"In a way," Ginny murmured, a small smile growing on her face as she saw Harry approaching in the distance.

Lela smiled in his direction and hurried off in another, she had learned that Ginny needed time with just him. It was a main part of Ginny's utopia and since Lela was a part of that, she understood the way it worked. Ginny was always so grateful for her wordless exits, Lela never badgered her about her need to spend time with Harry; she gave it to her willingly.

"Afternoon," he said, a boyish smile on his face.

"Have you been waiting long?" Ginny asked teasingly, slipping her hand into his.

He kissed the fingers that were wrapped around his and slipped his free arm around her waist, pulling her close to him.

"Every time you leave I count the minutes until you return, it gets harder each time," he murmured into her hair.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him. He always smelled like an odd mixture of cedar, salt and muggle fabric softener. It was an aroma Ginny wished she could capture in a bottle so she'd be able to smell it all the time anytime she wanted.

"I want to stay," she started, but he cut her off with a light kiss on the lips.

"I want you to stay," he finished.

She shook her head, the sunlight catching her red hair perfectly. "I can't control when I leave. I wish I could but I don't know how."

He gave a sad smile. Somehow he understood, even if she didn't. They didn't speak, just stood with her face pressed to his chest and his chin resting on the top of her head. They stood in the setting sun for what seemed like hours until Ginny stood on her tiptoes and leaned into his face…

She awoke with her fingers wrapped around one of her bedposts. She quickly glanced around; making sure no one was around as she began silently crying into her pillow. She hated this part, the part where she woke up and left the two people that didn't care about anything but her. She hated the feeling of insignificance and rejection that came flooding into her being every time she left her utopia. Coming back to reality, coming back to Hogwarts made her feel lonely and broken.

Most of all, she felt unstable. And instability was the one thing she feared could break her utopia, the one thing that was strong enough to hold her pieces together.


	5. Four

Everything that is associated with the characters and world of Harry Potter belongs to Ms. Rowling.  
Thank you to my beta readers, ReadingRobyn and No_Hugs_Peach.

Please, if you can, review. I really, **really **would appreciate it. I can use all of the help in the world.  
.:x:.

She sat through five classes with no problem, feeling bored and disconnected throughout the entire day. Even Charms class wasn't engaging enough for her; it had used to be her favorite part of the day. Now she was in History of Magic, listening to awful Professor Binns drone on for an hour. So she resorted to daydreaming, wishing she were in another place. Until she decided to tune in for just a second, and couldn't help herself but to listen.

"So who can tell me the difference between a witch doctor and a healer like those you find at Saint Mungo's?" Professor Binns asked as he floated past a row of drooling students.

Echo Williamson, the Hermione Granger of Ginny's grade, shot her hand into the air and waved it around for emphasis. Professor Binns looked around, his bored to death (no pun intended) expression not faltering as he saw hers was the only hand in the air.

"Yes Miss Wilson."

Echo flipped her honey blonde curls, proud of herself for some reason. The fact that Professor Binns never got her name right never bothered Echo, just as long as she got to answer said question.

"A healer, first and foremost, must get and Exceeds Expectations on the Tranfiguration, Potions, Charms, Herbology and Defense against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. exams. A healer then has a degree from a _formal_," Echo always had a tendency to emphasize words about education, as if people who continued to learn were better somehow. "Wizardry University and has studied through an internship at a hospital. A healer also does what is self-explanatory, they heal. A witch doctor differs from healer because they've either inherited their position or just earned their status through word of mouth. They don't have a degree and they practice independently. A witch doctor also focuses more on unconventional methods that aren't proven to work, and will even practice on hurting a patient just so they can learn to heal them," Echo said in a matter of fact sort of way.

"Yes, yes. Ten points to…oh…your house," Professor Binns said, scratching at his ghostly chin.

He floated to the blackboard and rested in front of it, his eyes were beginning to close. Ginny always wondered if Professor Binns even liked teaching or if he did it simply because there was nothing better to do as a ghost.

Ginny rolled her eyes, wondering why she even bothered paying attention. She grabbed her tote bag and followed the group of students that were pushing and shoving to get out of the classroom. She chose to linger behind them, waiting until she could get out, but not in an anxious way. She had forgotten to see if there was an assignment, she frankly didn't care.

"I don't believe in witch doctors, I think they're a scam to make children afraid to go in the woods, when they should really be afraid of the Giant Land Rooshers that live in the trees," Luna mulled over as she walked up to Ginny.

She nodded in response, keeping along the path to the Dining Hall where she would be confronted by yet another problem.

"And frankly, I have no desire to write six pages on a witch doctor, when I don't even think they exist," Luna said as angrily as Luna could.

She silently thanked her quirky friend for remembering the assignment she didn't.

"No one wants to write six pages for Professor Binns, I don't even think he reads them. I have a theory that he grades according to how legible your handwriting is," Ginny joked quietly and under her breath.

Luna nodded softly. "I suppose that's what school's about though, doing what you don't like so that you'll appreciate life outside of it a bit more."

That was thing about Luna, she could say something completely innocently and be the most insightful person you'd ever come across.

"I think that my father sent me here to catch a nargle though."

And then she would say something like that, effectively erasing anything she had said before.

It wasn't until she entered the Dining Hall and Luna wandered off to her own table that Ginny was faced with her newest dilemma. She had always had friends to spare, but now she was solitary and quiet, making it harder for her to decide who to sit near.

"Ginny!"

She looked to the end closest to her to see her brother and Hermione waving to her.

_Oh god, oh no._

Her mind was screaming no, but still she felt her feet walking towards them.

_If you sit there, you'll likely sit near him. You'll have to face him, see the person that makes you feel like this, how can you let yourself do this?_

She sat, smiling at them. They were so happy together, so content in their current situation. There was her big brother, smiling at his girlfriend while she flipped through the pages of an overtly (and almost obnoxiously) thick textbook. His fingers lingered on her shoulder, resting gently like Harry's used to do to hers. Ginny felt her breath catch in her throat; Ron noticed and removed his hand, placing it on the table. She didn't know if he did it out of respect for her presence or simply because Hermione had issues with too much PDA.

"What happened kid? Did you fall of the face of the earth?" he teased her like big brothers do.

She smiled, grabbing a croissant. "No, I've just been busy."

She felt Hermione nudge her under the table. "To busy for us? That hurts!" Her brown eyes were sparkling like they only did when she was around Ron. Ginny couldn't help but think it was pretty adorable, despite her jealously for what they had.

Ginny peeled at the crisp, outer layer of the croissant, letting it fall onto her plate and break into even tinier pieces. "I miss you guys too, don't get me wrong."

"You're a liar, Gin," Ron kidded, his hair falling into his eyes. It was growing long, with the wizarding world on the edge of war the Weasley family had much more to worry about than simple haircuts.

It still amazed her how little they looked alike. His hair was darker, more red that orange while hers was the color of tangerines and sunsets. They both had brown eyes, but his were deep, rich color that differed from Ginny's amber eyes. In Ginny's opinion, the only thing that showed they were related was the spunk and sass they both contained in their personality.

"Ronald, I don't lie. I just fib to make you feel better about yourself," she retorted, popping a piece of doughy croissant into her mouth with a smile.

"Stop kidding yourself, you're high, Gin. Sky high and you don't have a clue how to get down," he stated with a firm nod, his eyes twinkling like the jokester he was.

"How are your classes?" Hermione inquired while mixing a bit of milk into her tea.

Ginny chuckled softly. "Only _you'd _want to talk about school these days."

Hermione shrugged, taking a sip of her tea. Growing up with Harry and Ron as best friends made her almost impossible to sting. "It's a legitimate question. When we win the war you'll have to get some sort of career and the only way to do that is…" She kept talking but Ginny had tuned out.

It was just then that her worst fear happened. He walked past them. He slapped palms with Ron and punched Hermione lightly on the shoulder. He was so enthralled with talking to them he didn't even see her.

He didn't even see her.

She abruptly stood from the table with a bang as her white plate fell to the floor. The croissant bounced and the plate shattered but she didn't care. It was as if time stopped and all she could hear was her own heartbeat. Hermione and Ron looked at her, realization flooding over their faces. Hermione instantly shut her mouth, cursing herself for thinking Ginny would want to talk about N.E.W.T.s. All Harry could do was stare at the floor.

So she left. She didn't run or even jog, she just walked away from them, ignoring the whispers from onlookers as she passed them. She just listened to the soothing thoughts in her head, willing herself away from anything that would cause her pain or stress.

_They're waiting for me. They see me. I'm not invisible to them._

She pushed through the portrait hole, her energy gone from the concentration of getting to her safe haven. She collapsed onto a couch, flopping one arm over her eyes and dropping her tote onto the floor beside her.

It was getting easier and easier, falling into utopia each time she wanted. It was becoming automatic, an involuntary reaction to anything that bothered her. She had enough control to not let it happen unintentionally, but if it took more than a minute when she wanted to slip away, she became nervous that she'd lost that ability, that her secret was gone.

But each time she'd suddenly relax and begin to feel that soft, floating feeling that made her fingers tingle with delight.

She stepped carefully onto the stones of the stream, barefoot, her arms out to keep her balance. It had been autumn a few days before and suddenly, it was spring time. There were white blossoms on each of the little trees that grew alongside the border of the meadow. Everything smelled fresh and new. One day, she hoped they could explore the rest of her world, there had to be more than what she already knew.

She had already lain in his arms and now was off with Lela, talking and musing about the events of her day, nothing was too boring or miniscule to tell her closest confidant. Lela plopped down in the grass, plucking petals off of a daisy and letting them spin to through the air and to the ground. Ginny closed her eyes, inhaling the comforting scent that utopia had before sinking down beside Lela.

"I love it here," she whispered quietly.

Lela smiled, grabbing her dark hair tucking another daisy into her braid. "Of course you do. You can be you here; you can forget your doubts and not be afraid. It's completely safe, who wouldn't love it?"

Ginny closed her eyes, basking in the spring sun. "I'm not normally afraid out there, but just this year I became afraid, why can't I be like this out there?"

Lela shrugged, resting her chin in her hand. "I don't really know all the details of what makes a utopia, but I do know that you're you at your prime, the way you were at your best. It's more than just a coping mechanism, it's a complete escape."

Ginny smiled standing and brushing bits of grass off of her legs. "I like that. I like feeling like my best."

She offered Lela a hand, but she shook her head.

"Go find him, you know you want to, I'll just be here for a while."

Ginny nodded, walking away and hearing Lela's singing in the distance.

"She's like the swallow that flies so high, she's like the river that never runs dry,"

Ginny smiled at the lyrics, realizing that she was the topic of Lela's song. She plucked a wildflower from the meadow, tucking it behind her ear. She saw him in the distance and her smile grew. She stretched her arms out, feeling the sun wash over her and walking towards the thing that made her feel like her best. Lela was singing and she felt peace.

"She's like the sunshine on the lee shore, I love my love,"

She didn't even hear the last line, she didn't care. He was holding her, kissing her forehead and musing about how much she meant to him and much he loved her.

But if she had, she would've felt her heart stop.

"And love is no more."  
.:x:.  
(**A/N**- "She's Like the Swallow", for those of you who don't know, is a very old British folksong from the 1930's.)  
**Please review!**


	6. Five

I don't own anything, J.K. Rowling owns it all.  
Thank you to ReadingRobyn for being an amazing beta.

Please review, I really appreciate knowing what you're all thinking.  
.:x:.

"I'm worried about Ginny," Hermione said as she watched the girl flee from the Dining Hall, causing a scene without meaning too and earning herself a new status as the best person to gossip about in between classes.

"We all are, but I know my sister," Ron said quietly as Harry just stared off in the direction Ginny had headed. "If she's not telling us what's going on, we should leave it alone. We shouldn't pry."

Hermione whirled around, her mouth wide open with shock. "Are you serious! What about what happened to her in her second year? Do you want history to repeat itself?"

Ron shook his head, scooting closer to Hermione to make room for the now very silent Harry. "Of course not, but ever since then Ginny's told me or mum everything if something's bothering her. If there was something serious going on, she'd tell me. Seriously Hermione don't push it, you still haven't seen those Bat-Bogey Hexes of hers…"

"I don't mean to doubt your knowledge of your sister, but I don't think she would this time," Hermione said gently, ignoring the part about Ginny's more that capable hexing abilities.

"Why?"

She pressed her lips together, forming a thin line like she always did when she was thinking. "Because your best friend," she said quietly, looking at Harry, "is the main reason that she's behaving this way."

Ron's jaw dropped while Harry just looked at the table like it was fascinating, picking at a piece of cherry pie without taking bite.

"That's ridiculous! She's not behaving this way 'cause Harry dumped her, she said she knew it was coming and he said she took it really well," he protested.

Hermione shook her head, her brown waves bounced almost indignantly on her shoulders. "She's been having panic attacks, I know that much. And sorry Harry, but they're triggered by being around you. Ginny's more sensitive then we give her credit for. She's impressionable too, which is the main reason why I'm worried. Honestly I think you two have completely forgotten about the Chamber of Secrets, someone should've written it all down to remind you of what happened to her."

"I know she's sensitive. And I know it's my fault," Harry said in a low voice.

"Oh Harry," Hermione said, instantly feeling guilty. "It's not. You know you did the right thing last year, there was…no there _is_ no way of knowing what lengths Voldemort and the Death Eaters will go to get at you. They could even use someone close to you to hurt you, you know that. They'd hurt Ginny; they'd kill her. You did the right thing."

Harry shook his head, a sad smile fading from his face. "That's the thing though, I hurt her. I'm doing exactly the thing I was trying to prevent."

"No you're not," she protested. "You're not killing her are you? You're not torturing her for information and you're not hurting anyone in her family. If you were still with her you'd be putting her and anyone close to her in danger, and how could you live with yourself if you were doing that? I understand why you broke things off. I don't blame you, Harry."

"I'm still hurting her, I'm still making her feel like hell," Harry mumbled, stabbing a piece of bread with a butter knife.

"Don't give yourself too much credit," Ron mumbled under his breath.

Hermione furrowed her brows, unsure of what Ron said exactly. "Ron?"

"What?"

"Did you say something?" She shot him the don't-you-dare-bloody-lie look for emphasis.

Ron shook his head, grabbing The Daily Prophet from Seamus and flipping it open. Hermione leaned over his left arm, reading along with him. It was yet another story about Voldemort and the war breaking out around them, with an unusual sentence that made Hermione gasp.

"Harry?"

He glanced up from the table, catching the concerned look that seemed to be plastered on Hermione's face.

"What? Am I dead again?"

Hermione pulled the paper from Ron's hands, sliding it into Harry's.

The top story featured a picture of a house burning and smoldering while a dark shadow lingered in the distance. Several people in the picture, presumably muggles, were running away from the home completely terrified. The title itself jumped from the pages, "Muggle Home in Smoke: Death Eaters Behind the Flames". But the thing most shocking, most terrifying about it was the number on the mailbox.

4 Privet Drive.

"Ron, I think we need to get a hold of your mum and dad," he said in a low voice as he folded the paper up.

Ron nodded the fear not draining from his eyes. "I'll send them an owl."

"No," Harry thought quickly. "It'll take too long, they need to know now. Hermione, apparate to the Weasley home and tell them to get out of there, move into a safe house, somewhere isolated. Give them the paper if they haven't got one already."

She nodded, standing from the table with Ron's shaky hand on her arm. "Wait, why?"

"Where am I when I'm not at the Dursley's?"

Without another word Hermione headed off to the hall where she would disappear with a small pop. Harry and Ron walked down the hallway outside of the Dining Hall together, neither of them saying a word. Ron looked to his shoes, a dirty pair of Converse that got him in trouble with McGonagall each week, but they reminded him of Fred and George so he wore them anyway. Everything was changing so quickly Ron felt like he couldn't keep up, he wanted to be strong for Harry, but his own concerns about the future tended to outweigh his ability to be there for his friend.

"Do you know…?"

"If my aunt, uncle and cousin are all right?" Harry interrupted, still not looking at Ron. "They're fine. They're vacationing in the states right now. They probably have no idea it happened yet."

"Oh."

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

Harry sighed. "How hard did Gin take it?"

Ron chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking of the proper words to use. "She took it all right, better than I would've if were me and Hermione, but still she wasn't good, if you know what I mean."

Harry turned to Ron, holding the stare more intently than he had all day. "Then why can't she talk to me? Why can't she be around me?"

Ron closed his eyes and shook his head, breaking the stare that Harry continued to hold. "Well…she forgot about the hurt that hadn't healed I suppose, and you remind her of that. I don't know, ask Hermione, girls can explain it much better than I ever can."

Harry turned on his heel, walking the opposite direction, away from Ron and the reminder of how he'd failed the one person who had mattered most to him.

Hermione reappeared with the same soft pop, her cheeks flushed and her hair a bit untidy. "I found your mum, she was already packing. I won't say where they're going just yet, just in case," she reported in a low voice.

Ron nodded, wrapping her in his arms. She breathed heavily and pressed her face into his shoulder.

"What are we going to do? How are we going to know if we're safe? How can we know who we can trust? I can't handle this…" she said in a shaky voice, trying to withhold her tears.

Ron placed his cheek onto the top of her head, holding her close as he thought. "We're going to stay here and try and behave normally. We're not safe, nobody is, but we're safest if we don't present ourselves as threats…and you can trust me and I'll help you handle it."

She looked up at him, her brown eyes shining with wet tears. "This is why Ginny's like this, isn't it? She doesn't have anyone who will say this stuff to her."

Ron shrugged. "I guess that's part of it."

"You know why, don't you?"

He nodded slowly. "I think so."

She nodded in response, resting her head on his shoulder once again. She couldn't see the worried look in his eyes or know the frustration he was feeling with her face buried into his neck.

Because Ron didn't know why. He had no idea the things that were hurting his sister, and it was tearing him up inside. He wanted to help her, to shelter and protect her but he didn't know what to hide her from so he had to pretend like she could take care of herself. He knew something had a firm grasp around Ginny, and he didn't know how to help her away from it. His sister was drowning, choking, ultimately sinking in something and he couldn't get her out.

And for that, he couldn't forgive himself.


	7. Six

I don't own anything from _Harry Potter_, J.K. Rowling does.  
Thank you, thank you, to ReadingRobyn for being a wonderful beta.

**Please review. **Seriously, they really do make me want to keep going and help me feel less stuck. Reviews are wonderful.**  
**.:x:.

Lela stepped through the meadow with ease, avoiding the spots where thistles grew and where roses blossomed. She had a spellbound look in her eye, as if she was looking or waiting for someone. She stopped once she reached the end of the meadow and the beginning of the forest, shading her eyes and staring off into the trees.

It was quieter than it usually was in utopia. The crickets weren't chirping and the birds weren't singing like they normally did. All that could be heard was the breeze blowing through the grass and the stream babbling along its course. The sun was shining, but for the first time, clouds were starting to appear, casting their shadows along the ground. The forest was dark, the dancing lights were gone making it appear more menacing and dangerous.

Suddenly the wind began to blow more furiously, tearing petals from their blossoms and ripping leaves from the trees. Lela turned her head in the opposite direction of the blowing wind, closing her eyes to stop the dust from getting into them and firmly planting her feet on the ground. The wind ripped the tie from her hair, letting the braid unravel and let her curls blow in its fury. Once the wind had passed her eyes flew open and she looked around, clearly expecting to see something or someone.

There was another girl in utopia. She had bright blonde hair that shown and glimmered making it seem almost white. Her face was thinner than Lela's, but their resemblance was uncanny. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, but they had the same gold flecks around the irises like Lela's had. She stepped forward, a small smile growing on her face.

"Look at you," she murmured, looking around utopia. "I must say, I'm impressed, you've done better than I thought you would."

"Well thanks; I suppose that's a compliment in some manner." Lela crossed her arms, squinting into the sunlight.

"How's it coming?" The girl said quickly, as if in a hurry to get the words out. She put her hands on her hips, clearly meaning business.

Lela laughed quietly, somewhat sarcastically, her eyes darting to the ground almost instantly. "Nice. No, how are you? Or even an update on your life?"

The other girl shook her head, clearly annoyed at Lela's obstinacy and cynicism. "I think it's best that we keep personal matters away from this. We have a job to do, and anything that might distract from that is unneeded, you should know that."

"I do," Lela snapped, her eyes blazing as she stared the other girl down. "I know that better than you even, don't make me remind you."

"Then tell me, how's it coming?"

Lela pressed her lips together, forming them into a thin line. "Not as well as I could hope."

The other girl nodded, her face not showing any emotion. "Explain."

Lela sighed, plopping down into the grass while the other girl remained standing, looking stoic and hard.

"She's treating me like a friend, and just that."

The other girl frowned in confusion, "That's good, that's what you're supposed to do."

"No," Lela shook her head. "She just tells me things, like how her day went or what's annoying her. Stupid, trivial things like which person whispered about her in school. She doesn't ever mention what's going on behind closed doors and she definitely doesn't ever mention him. She's gone soft since I've been in her mind, but it's not the kind of soft like you described." Her tone had an incensed, blaming type of ring to it that made the other girl harden, if that were possible.

"How so?"

Lela paused, gathering her thoughts. "Her soft isn't a broken, susceptible soft. It's more of an unrealistically thinking, dreamier kind of soft. Since she's been able to come here, she's living vicariously through the kinds of things that happen while in here. I'm not quite sure how to break her, how to get the information out. I can't blow my cover, but I have to figure it out somehow…"

The other girl plucked a rose from a nearby bush; she pricked her finger on a thorn but went right on with her business, ignoring the small bubbles of blood forming on the tip of her index finger. She focused in on the petals, tracing the veins with her bloody finger and smelling the blossom, and smiling slowly before looking up at Lela with a menacing gleam to her gaze. She stuck her finger in her mouth and licked the blood off, her ominous smile never faltering.

"It's common knowledge that once a flower has been plucked from its bush, it dies," she said thoughtfully, stroking the stem and scraping her fingers with the thorns.

Lela shifted her weight unnervingly, rolling her eyes. "And this is relevant how? Honestly, do you always have to be philosophical?"

"Some would say to kill it, just cut it off from the source," she said sharply, waving her hand and causing the rosebush to catch on fire. "I, for one, say manipulation and ultimate control of the outcome is far, far more effective." She waved her hand again and made the fire stop, but as she slowly closed her fist the bush began to cave in on itself, crushing the delicate blooms inside.

"How?" Lela leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. "How do I do that?"

The girl smiled, knowing that she had Lela eating out of the palm of her hand.

"It's simple," she began, plucking a petal from the bloody rose and letting it spin to the ground. "This child thinks that she controls this utopia, that she can make it whatever she wants, when in reality, this is all because of you. You did this, did you not?"

Lela nodded and leaned back on her elbows. "Go on."

"So think about it. If you can make this what you want, you can make it anything. You can manipulate it and change it to your will, controlling not only your outcome, but her mind," she practically whispered, waving her hand and making the crushed roses begin to appear to bleed.

Lela smiled, throwing her head back and laughing. "And this will work? You're sure?"

"Trust me." The girl nodded, helping Lela to her feet.

Lela narrowed her eyes and raised her arms, focusing in on something. Suddenly the winds began to blow, bending the trees and furiously blowing flower petals and leaves about. The sky began to grow darker, clouds moving over the once brilliant sun. Then the unthinkable happened. The clouds started swirling and spinning, making a tornado to touch down on the plains of utopia, ripping and tearing through everything in its path. Lela let out a shrill laugh, watching the whirlwind approach them and letting it tear into the forest before lowering her hands and looking back at the other girl, who was shaking her head and chuckling.

"Sometimes you are so full of yourself."

Lela shrugged, snapped her fingers, and everything was quiet again and peaceful again. She stretched her arms and neck, looking pleased with herself.

"It's my best quality, don't you think _Sara_?" She said Sara's name with a mocking tone.

Sara shook out her blonde hair and began to walk away.

"Just don't waste time with theatrics, just get it done with, so that we can be through with these stupid little games." She called to Lela over her shoulder.

Lela yelled after her "Trust me, I'll get the job done, you just wait, tomorrow, the real game with the little girl begins. And I'll win, you'll see. You'll all see."


	8. Seven

Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, because she's a genius and is more creative than I will ever be.  
ReadingRobyn is amazing and a great beta, thank you to her for putting up with my bad grammar and helping me along.

Thank you guys for the reviews, more would be appreciated! They help me tweak things that I've already finished and really, really encourage me to keep going!  
.:x:.

Ginny rested her head against the pillow, reading The Daily Prophet and trying to relax. She found it funny and confusing that the stories about the war didn't increase her anxiety, it actually calmed her. Well, calmed wasn't the right word for it. They more or less gave her something else to focus on, inevitably taking her mind off the stress she was currently dealing with. Reading about other people's problems with unforgivable curses and death made her problems seem so much less, it made her feel better.

There were several stories regarding Inferi sightings and new citizens under suspicion for being Death Eaters. Still, one story in particular jumped out at Ginny. It was about a young witch from America that had been manipulated internally through dreams. Apparently, she had been able to go into a meditative state at will, entering a world of perfection where a Death Eater would be able to control her and make her do anything that was "needed". Angela Christianson, the young witch, was never able to graduate from the Salem Witches Institute, and after being institutionalized, committed suicide without warning.

Ginny shuddered and folded the paper up, placing it under a water bottle on her nightstand. Stories of suicide were not what she needed or wanted in the slightest. She glanced around the dormitory; all of the other girls were sleeping. She suddenly wished Hermione was there to comfort her, to ease her worrisome thoughts. She sighed, pushing the thought from her mind and switched off her lamp. She snuggled under the covers and closed her eyes, begging for sleep to come. She just prayed that she would get what she wanted out of sleep, not nightmares about people hanging themselves.

For the first time since she'd been there, it was night in utopia. Ginny frowned, confused and suspicious of the surrounding darkness. She couldn't see off into the distance or see any stars in the sky, and it made her uneasy. She pursed her lips, waiting for Lela or Harry, but all she heard was silence, which made her heart beat faster and her stomach churn. Something was clearly not right.

She took a few tentative steps, suddenly very aware at the sounds the leaves made as they crunched beneath her feet. She was noticing everything from the way the branches looked silhouetted against the sky to the way the water seemed to be whispering, as if it was trying not to offend the silence that the night had brought.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to guard herself from the cold that was biting at her ears and sending shivers down her spine. She'd never been cold here before, she'd never felt alone in utopia but all of a sudden that's just what she was. She whirled around, looking for anything that was at all familiar, but nothing was normal.

"Harry?" she called out, her voice breaking in fear.

"Lela?" But all that answered her was silence.

Suddenly a soft crack was heard behind her. She turned around, red hair whipping her in the face. Lela stood behind her, leaning against a tree, an emotionless expression on her face. Her dark hair was blowing in the breeze, fanning around her head like some sort of crown.

Ginny broke into a run, hurrying towards the one thing that was recognizable to her. Lela just stared at her, her eyes glazed over with a sort of impassive cover.

"Lela," Ginny gasped, raking her fingers through her hair. "This isn't right. This isn't how this is supposed to be. What's going on? Tell me you know what's going on."

Lela brushed a dark curl out of her face, lowering her eyes to the leaves that rushed across her feet. "You're happier not knowing. Maybe you should leave."

"What?" Ginny shook her head furiously. "That's not right. I'm supposed to be happy here, this is supposed to be my paradise, why would I be happier away from it?"

"Maybe you should trust me for a minute," Lela hissed, snapping her head up to face Ginny. Her normally soft eyes were blazing and she let strands of hair blow furiously across her face, making her look fierce and wild. Ginny drew back, alarmed by Lela's sharp tone. The changes in her utopia were making her more and more nervous.

Lela closed her eyes and sighed. "Trust me," she murmured. "You don't want to be here right now."

Ginny crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Why not? Explain, Lela."

"Utopia is basically under your control. It's an escape for you, but sometimes you actually help the world discover why you needed it in the first place. When this happens, it may turn against you," Lela said against the wind.

"That doesn't make any sense, so the world's against me now?"

Lela shrugged. "I don't know exactly. But you should leave, bad things can only happen while you're here."

Ginny pressed her hands to her eyes, struggling to breathe evenly. She shook her head and fought the urge to cry. "I can't handle this. What am I going to do without this place?"

"Just leave for a little while; you'll know when it's time to come back."

Ginny looked to Lela, who quickly turned her head towards the ground, avoiding Ginny's gaze.

"Lela," Ginny said slowly. "What's going on? Why are you rushing me out of here? What could be so bad that it would cause this storm? I get that it's partially me, that there's a storm in my mind but what is it? Please…Lela, please tell me."

Lela shook her head, giving a sad smile to the now cloud filled sky. A bolt of lightning flashed the light from the bolt filled up her eyes and making them look eerily wicked.

"You don't want to know."

Ginny grabbed Lela's face, turning it towards her and forced the other girl to look at her. "Stop keeping secrets from me. What's going on?" she yelled to Lela, who merely shrugged.

"Fine. Follow me. But you don't get to say I didn't try to stop you, Ginny."

Lela turned on her heel and headed into the forest, a place Ginny had never ventured. At first a tiny bit of fear tugged at her heart, urging her to go back, but Ginny pushed it from her mind, following close behind Lela. They passed trees that looked like people who were stretching their arms to the sky, a few times Ginny thought she saw something darting in between the branches, but the shadows disappeared as quickly as they came. She hesitated slightly when Lela waded through a creek but ignored the panic welling up inside of her and trudged through the ice cold water. Her shoes were soaked so she pulled them off; instantly cursing that idea when she stepped on twigs and pine needles with her bare feet.

They came to a small clearing that was surrounded by trees. The meadow in the middle was circular with trees surrounding it. The wind had quieted and the moonlight was shining down, illuminating the entire grove. Ginny stopped dead in her tracks, almost having to brace herself against a tree for support at what she saw.

Harry was in the clearing. But he wasn't alone. A girl Ginny had never seen before was embracing him, holding him close as he kissed her. They clung to each other the way he had once held onto Ginny, tenderly holding the back of this girls head.

Ginny gasped and turned around, unable to move or think or cry. She pressed one hand to her forehead, closing her eyes and trying to breathe.

"You should go," Lela whispered in her ear. "Anything can happen here because you're vulnerable and unstable now. It's going to turn on you if you let it."

If this was her minds way of reminding her it was time to move on Ginny just couldn't accept that. She was supposed to feel protected and loved when she was here. This was supposed to be a place where she could heal. Reminding her of what could occur in the real world just made Ginny want to scream even more. She felt the now too familiar twinge of hurt in her heart and she turned away from her worst nightmare. She looked at Lela, expected to see compassion or sorrow. But Lela's blank gaze didn't even surprise Ginny by now.

"Everything turns on me," Ginny whispered back in a shaky voice.

Lela gently pushed her away from the scene. "I won't."

Ginny wanted to thank her, but only one thing came to her mind. So she ran, she fled, and tried to cry.

But this time, no tears came. Nothing happened. She just felt cold and hard, and she couldn't decide if it was almost more difficult to feel nothing at all then to feel too much.


	9. Eight

Sorry for the hold on chapters, I've been having some internet problems but I'll be on as much as I can be!  
You know the drill, everything but my plotline and OCs belong to JK Rowling.  
Thank you to ReadingRobyn for all her hard work.

Read&Review Please&Thanks!  
.:x:.

Ginny tucked another loose strand of red hair behind her ear, ignoring the anxious glances Hermione was giving her. She clenched her teeth and stared straight down at her plate, irritably stabbing at the mashed potatoes that were quickly becoming cold and lumpy. She could feel them looking at her, staring her down and watching her every move. It was uncomfortable and made her feel uneasy and nervous. Each time Ginny saw Hermione glance at her, she wanted to smash her plate down onto the floor and run away, even though she knew that it wouldn't help in any way. For that matter, Ginny was finally getting tired of running.

"Gin…" a voice said softly.

"What?" she snapped, sounding angrier then she meant to.

Hermione flinched at the bite in Ginny's words, she actually cringed as if they had stung her. Ginny felt sudden guilt when she saw the care and concern welling up behind Hermione's gaze.

"What?" she asked again, more softly.

Hermione gave a small smile, still not the smile she would normally give. "Honestly, are you all right?"

Ginny sighed and closed her eyes, pressing her hand on her forehead. She felt Hermione place a loving hand on her shoulder. She wanted to pull away, but she was too tired to put forth the effort.

"Ginny, you can tell me anything, you know that," Hermione said gently in Ginny's ear. "I just want to be there for you."

_Don't tell her a damn thing. Don't you dare open your bloody mouth._

Ginny's eyes flew open when she heard the voice in her head. It wasn't even a normal voice. It was more like a deep, hoarse snarl, angrily giving her orders from a place that she thought was only hers.

"I don't…" Ginny began and felt a sharp pain snap through her head, causing her to inhale sharply and squeeze her eyes shut. She didn't get to see the concerned look grow bigger on Hermione's face.

_I can hurt you like nobody else can Ginny Weasley. So make this easy on yourself and keep silent, don't tell that mudblood a damn thing._

Normally, she would've lunged at the person's throat if she'd heard them call Hermione that horrid word, but this person was indestructible. She couldn't see them or even touch them. They clearly knew her though, and they knew her too well for comfort. The whole situation was terrifying and at the same time, reassuring Ginny that she really was going crazy.

She felt herself shake her head and force a smile. It was a like she was floating about the whole situation, watching herself perform like a self-inflicted circus clown.

"Hermione, you don't need to worry, I'm just overly tired." She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, smiling sweetly like an angel.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ginny, suddenly looking suspicious and mistrustful. It made Ginny's cheeks burn and her heart swell with pain, she wanted to tell her. She wanted to lay her head on Hermione's lap and sob and cry and spill her soul out, telling all of the secrets she'd been harboring for so long. And then she felt her breath stop as if someone was holding onto her throat.

_Stop thinking like that! Stop right now! Lie you stupid girl, lie!_

"What would make you think otherwise?" Ginny whispered feebly. She wanted to cry, her own thoughts were no longer just hers.

_You're pathetic._

But the pain stopped, she had to fight the urge to sob and rub her throat. Hermione's skeptical gaze didn't falter making her anxiety grow.

"Ginny, what color are your eyes?" Hermione said firmly.

"Brown, why?" Ginny replied, her true irritation with being integrated coming out into the open.

"Never mind. I have to get to class," Hermione said hurriedly, grabbing her books and rushing from the table. She didn't even finish her pasta, it just sat alone on her plate, looking as alone as Ginny felt.

Ginny slowly rose from the table. The feelings of guilt and remorse for lying to Hermione were flooding over her as she made her way out of the Great Hall. She trudged through the hallway, both confused and frightened from what had happened. Why was she hearing voices? It was one thing to think she was crazy, but now that she actually had confirmations that she really was losing her mind, she was terrified.

She pushed open the door from the lavatory and dropped her bag by the wall. Class had already started and she was skipping Potions. She knew she was in for a lecture from Professor McGonagall and that she would undoubtedly lose Gryffindor some house points, but she didn't care. Ginny made her way to one of the sinks and turned the water on full blast. She splashed the water onto her face, making her hair wet, and feeling it drip down her nose. When she looked up she had to hold in a shriek.

Lela was in the mirror. Her grey eyes were narrowed and her mouth formed a thin line. Ginny reached her fingers to the glass to be sure it was there and breathed a sigh of relief when they touched the smooth surface.

"How," Ginny whispered, her fingers recoiling into a tight fist as she defensively took a step back.

Lela flipped her black hair over her shoulder. "Does it matter? Does it, Ginny?"

Ginny managed to shrug as she looked down at the floor.

"I didn't think so," Lela said in a low voice. "I'm here. You're being too risky Ginny; do you know what's going to happen to you if you tell somebody about your utopia and or me?"

Ginny felt herself shake her head even though in her mind she did have a very good idea of what Lela was going to say.

"They'll lock you up. They'll think you're insane. They'll take you away and you'll never see your precious Harry or your friends again. Is that what you want? Do you want that to happen?" Lela hissed.

"No," Ginny murmured, crossing her arms and feeling her eyes well up with tears. She looked up to Lela, who quickly turned her head.

Lela sighed, her grey eyes softened a little bit but she managed to maintain her strong stance as she looked to the left of Ginny. She refused to meet Ginny's gaze.

"I didn't think so," she began. "You're lucky I was there today to keep you from losing your head."

Ginny's mouth dropped. "That was you? You're the one that was yelling at me?"

Lela shrugged. "I'm keeping your world safe. I know what's good for you."

"You're making me think that I'm crazy," Ginny snapped, feeling ready to break the mirror that Lela was harboring herself in.

"If you would've opened your mouth today, which thanks to me you didn't, you wouldn't be the only one that thinks that you're losing your mind," Lela said simply before vanishing.

Ginny felt herself inhale sharply, realizing that Lela was right. If she had told Hermione what had been happening, she wouldn't be in school right now. She'd be somewhere else, probably locked up in the mental institution of Saint Mungo's. She really was crazy, and only Lela knew how to keep her safe.

Ginny looked in the mirror and frowned at what she saw. She rubbed her eyes and looked again, inhaling sharply and just backing away in fear again. Her eyes were grey, no wonder Hermione had asked. She fled into a stall and slammed the door shut, finally able to cry. Ginny choked on her sobs and buried her face into her hands. Now not only did she think she was crazy, someone else did too.


	10. Nine

Sorry it's been so long! I'll kep this short and sweet.  
Thank you to ReadingRobyn for being an amazing beta.  
Everythng recognizable belongs to JK Rowling.

PleaseReview.  
.:x:.

Ronald Weasley awoke to a start as someone flopped sloppily onto his bed and began to shake him. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and squinted into the bright light. He smiled lazily when he saw that it was Hermione who had woke him up. He reached for her, attempting to pull her down onto the bed with him. She shook her head, putting a hand on his bare chest and pushing him down.

"You're mean," he grumbled, crossing his arms like a pouting child.

Then Hermione turned to him and he sat right up. Her eyes were shining with tears and worry and she was shaking like a leaf in the autumn wind.

"What's wrong?" he asked more firmly as he pushed the blankets back and scooted over to her side.

She swallowed, breathing deeply and trying to calm herself down. "I think there's something wrong."

He furrowed his brow. "With what?"

She met his gaze, biting her lip before staring at her knees. "I think, no, I _know _there's something very, very wrong with your sister."

Ron ran a hand through his messy, red hair and frowned. "What's going on?"

"Ron," Hermione began in her unsteady voice. "What color are Ginny's eyes?"

"They're brown," he said irritably. "Why?"

"Ron, they turned grey. Her eyes turned grey while we were talking and she started sweating and getting all nervous. She's been losing weight, I thought maybe she just had a case of the flu or possibly a cold, but those wouldn't turn her eyes grey," she said in one whispered breath.

Ron placed a hand on her forehead. Hermione pulled away, slapping his hand in the process and jumped to her feet, her eyes flashing.

"I'm not sick," she snapped, her voice staying steady. "I'm not crazy either, you have to believe me. We have got to tell somebody."

Ron sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Hermione, she's sad. She misses Harry, she doesn't feel normal, and I think you just want to help her. But her eyes didn't change colors, that just doesn't happen."

"Yes it did!"

Ron ran a hand through his hair, trying to stay calm for his girlfriend. "All right, I guess it's possible. But even if it did happen, and I'm not saying it didn't, who would you tell? And what would you tell them?"

"I don't know, McGonagall for one! Or your mother, or hell, does it really matter? Ronald," She spurted out furiously. "We can't just sit here, we have to do something."

Ron shook his head and swung his legs over the bed and gave a sad smile. "I know you're worried but…"

Hermione glared at him and stomped towards the door, throwing her hands up in despair. "Fine. Don't believe me, I'm going to the library to figure this out and when I do…"

But Ron didn't hear her last words as she slammed the door behind her. He sighed, unsure of what to do. He really was worried about Ginny, but he didn't believe that something other than typical teenage angst could possibly be going on with her. He stood up, stretching his arms and hearing his shoulders pop. He walked over to the end of his bed and pulled a white T-shirt over his head and slipped into a pair of jeans that were lying on the floor. He looked outside at the Hogwarts grounds. The sun hadn't shown in weeks and off in the distance was the ever present dark mark, lingering up in the sky. He knew that war was approaching quickly and that there was nothing any of them could do to stop it.

But what if Hermione was right? His thoughts quickly swam back to his sister and her increasingly sad demeanor. He couldn't help but wonder. She wasn't wrong that often, and Hermione didn't really overreact in many situations and she wasn't known for blowing things out of proportion. If she thought there was something deeper going on with Ginny, could there be?  
.:x:.  
Hermione paged violently through the large, leather book that sat in front of her. She'd been in the library for almost two hours and had found nothing. According to most Magical Medicine references, physical transformations can only happen from spells and or potions. Unless a person was born with metamorphosis powers, there was no reasonable, documented, magical way a person could change their appearance at will. If the books she was reading were correct, there was no reason Ginny's appearance would be changing.

Hermione was stumped as to how Ginny's eyes had changed colors in a split second. If Ginny had metamorphosis powers, they would have been discovered at birth, not now. Transformation spells don't work unless the person casting the spell is looking directly in the persons eyes, and the spell must be said vocally. Hermione didn't cast one, and she definitely would have heard one. And transforming potions take minutes to work, not mere seconds. So Hermione was paging through newspaper articles, looking for anything that would give away Ginny's secret.

This was the first time in her memory that Hermione had felt helpless, especially in the library of all places. She didn't know what was wrong so she most certainly didn't know how to fix it. It was not only completely irritating it was a feeling Hermione didn't know if she could handle. She had only felt it once before, and that was in the battle at the Ministry of Magic, and she had hoped and prayed she would never feel it again. Yet here it was, as plain as day. There really was nothing she could do.

But Hermione refused to give up. She refused to step back and admit her inability to help. She kept paging through the newspapers, ignoring the tears of frustration gathering themselves in her eyes and trickling down her face. She wiped them away and turned page after page, reading the headlines, pleading for something remotely relevant.

And then her prayers were answered. A headline caught her eye. She brushed a tear away and glanced at the date, which was just a few weeks earlier. She read every word in the article and didn't feel as though she'd taken one breath. A young witch named Angela Christianson had shown similar symptoms, yet no other cases like hers were documented.

"Miss Christianson was institutionalized after an attempt to kill a young wizard that she had reportedly dated. Her hallucinations and transformations were induced and recorded for a period of three months until she committed suicide without warning one day," Hermione read out loud before slamming a fist on the book.

She had been hoping that there would be a way of contacting this Angela, now she was back at another dead end. Still, Hermione was not going to give up. She was not going to give in until she tried everything and until there was actually nothing more she could do.

Hermione stood, hoping her eyes weren't too puffy or too red. She made her way over to the door and hurried through it, bumping a pair of giggling second years but not pausing to apologize. Normally, she'd ask permission from Professor McGonagall before leaving the grounds, especially now that certain people could apparate from and to the grounds, no one could be trusted and she didn't want to be one of those that wasn't. She turned a corner into an empty hallway and closed her eyes.

Angela Christianson may have been American, but there was only one place for unknown medical cases in the magical world. And Hermione had a very strong feeling that Saint Mungo's would have at least a few more answers for her.

With a small pop Hermione appeared inside the lobby of the most famous magical hospital. The Welcome Witch glared at her, obviously irritated with the person she didn't know she'd have to greet. Hermione walked to the witch, breathing deeply and nervously tucking strands of hair behind her ears.

"Umm, hi," she began, smiling uneasily at the witch whose gaze suddenly softened.

"Can I help you?" The Welcome Witch said softly.

"Yeah," Hermione said with relief. "Where would I be able to look up information about a patient?"

The Welcome Witch's brow furrowed and her already pencil thin lips pursed together.

"I'm afraid that's not really possible," she began but Hermione cut her off.

"It's Angela Christianson, I need to know everything. I think the same thing is happening to my friend," Hermione said quickly.

The Witch's green eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I can't help you. Patients and their case studies are private. No one on staff would be allowed to discuss anything about this girl. If that is all…"

The Welcome Witch hurried over to another family and Hermione wanted to scream out of frustration. She trudged over the fountain, staring into the water and willing herself to hold the tears back. She felt a light touch on her shoulder and whirled around to see a brunette nurse with a timid gaze.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear," the nurse said in a soft voice. "I'm sorry, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Celia, Celia Cornwall. I think I might be able to help you."

Hermione sighed. "You're on staff, you can't help me. If you did know something about this Angela and you told me, you'd be fired."

Nurse Cornwall gave a small smile. "I'm not worried. If this is happening again, like you said it may be, it's my job to tell you what I know."


	11. Ten

Here's the correct version! Sorry, I was in such a hurry to get it up I got sloppy, oops.  
But anyway, thank you for reading. **Please review**, I'd really appreciate it.  
Thank you to ReadingRobyn for being such a great beta.  
Everything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
.:x:.

Harry pressed his hands into his face and tried to regain his composure. He inhaled deeply and released a sigh. He couldn't comprehend what Ron had told him. He couldn't understand the things that people were saying. Everything was becoming a blur.

In his heart of hearts, Harry really did want to believe that Ginny was okay. He wanted to believe that she was just sad, and that nothing else was going to occur. He had spent so much time convincing himself that nothing serious was really going on, he had completely overlooked the things that were actually happening. Harry had spent so many days thinking that Ginny was going to move on he had forgotten to actually take a look at reality.

Now he knew. Now he didn't have an excuse that could keep him away from the problems. Now Harry felt like he was slammed into the middle of a thunderstorm without any shelter and the lightning was about to strike.

And truly, Harry felt responsible.

He was a coward. He had backed away from her when she was feeling vulnerable and left her to fend for herself. Now he knew what kind of damage he had created. The problem was, Harry had made a mess and he didn't know how to clean it up.

He lay back on his bed, resting his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes, willing some of the anxiety to go away. His emotions were up and then down, left then right. He felt uncontrolled and stressed. He just needed a break from the madness, a release from all of the pressure.

Harry stood to his feet and walked to the window. Outside the wind was blowing and the skies were clouded and dark, a storm was on its way. She was probably in her room, staring out at the same sky, which would soon be full of raindrops.

Everyone, including Ron, was right. There was an obvious connection between the two of them. Harry knew things about Ginny that she would never tell Hermione or Luna. He knew about her fears and her dreams. In a week after they were officially a couple Ginny knew him better than anyone. They were perfect together. And he had tried to hide it; he couldn't even say it to himself. He had denied what they had.

But at the same time, he was right. They'd never be completely protected. He couldn't show how he truly felt about her because if he did, he'd be putting her in serious jeopardy. He couldn't bear to even think of the things that the Death Eaters could and would do to her to get to him. It would be his fault, and he couldn't live with that.

There were so many things Harry wanted to say to her. He yearned to take her in his arms and hold her close and tell her that everything would be all right. He wanted to make her feel safe, but that was the one thing he couldn't give her. He wanted to apologize and tell her that he wanted her for his own. But how could he come clean or confide in someone that he had completely turned away from.

He wanted Ginny for his own. He didn't want anyone to be able to know the things he knew about her. He felt a longing in his arms to hold her and a yearning in his lips to kiss her. He needed her, he really did. He was desperate to say all of those comforting things to Ginny, but he also wanted to hear them in return. Harry wanted her to come to him, all alone, and smooth out the wrinkles and stop the constant ache in his chest. He wanted her to be his to take and was desperate to have her calm his nerves.

Perhaps she wanted the same thing. Maybe he was absolutely correct in thinking that even though he had caused her mass amounts of pain and heartache, she really wanted his heart. It was hard to imagine that she would take him back after everything. He'd made her mind a jumble and was responsible for people thinking she was crazy. Why she'd want him back was something he'd never understand.

And even though he thought it was completely unlikely, he wanted her. He wanted her so badly it hurt.

She was the reason he'd come back, the reason he'd put Dumbledore's wishes aside. She mattered that much to him that he was willing to throw his mission to the side just to make sure she had someone watching over her, even if it was unknown to her. He had come to watch over her, to make sure that she was safe, as safe as she could be anyway. He was constantly worrying that they would come for her, so just in case they did he was ready to be there to fight for her, to make sure nothing bad could happen to her.

That was what hurt so much. She didn't even see it. All it seemed Ginny could see was when he left, she hadn't even noticed he came back. It tore into him every time she ran from him, every time she stared at the floor instead of looking at him. It hurt so much that he clearly loved her more than she loved him. Ginny would not talk to him, and though her reasons were perhaps justified, they were too easy and childish for him to accept.

But he pushed them aside and kept going. Moving through the motions of going to classes he couldn't help but find pointless, talking to his friends as if nothing in the world was wrong. He smiled and laughed and played Quidditch as if things were normal, as if there was no war and as if his mind wasn't constantly focused on a little red head with the most heart-wrenching eyes he'd ever seen.

Ginny was making him feel more and more dispensable by the day.

_And neither can live while the other survives…"_

_The words were practically burned inside Harry's brain in the same way the scar was burned on his forehead. They'd been playing inside his mind like a broken, unwavering record since that night in the Department of Mysteries. They weren't just words to Harry, they were an ultimatum, a terrible ultimatum that he didn't have a say in. _

_The hatred he felt for Tom Riddle was such a jumble, such a mixture of emotions that Harry couldn't have described it to anyone even if they had asked. He never spoke up about it because he didn't want to sound pitiful or pathetic, but every day when he would look in the mirror and saw his scar he would always wonder why him._

"_Why me, why did it have to be me?" _

_Even though he hated the prophecy, hated the circumstances in which he had found himself in, Harry would never tell Neville about the possible fate that could have been his, he could never burden Neville with that. He also, in spite of feeling stupid for wishing it wasn't him, would never go back and put it upon his friend given the chance. He would never wish his life on anyone else, would never even consider putting the weight of being "The Boy who Lived" on anyone else's shoulders._

"_Sign there please," the goblin said in his surprisingly airy voice._

_Harry was snapped back to the present. He was sitting at the kitchen table in the Burrow with the head of legalities from Gringotts sitting across from him. Molly and Arthur Weasley were keeping everyone outside with a muggle style barbeque in order to give Harry privacy. He had only confided in them as to what he wanted to have done, and even that had been difficult. But they were the closest things to parents he had, and he felt that their advice and knowledge would help solidify his decision to write up an official will._

_He scribbled his signature with the charmed quill and watched his name become literally set in stone. He couldn't help but find the stone tablet assumingbecause of the old saying (set in stone). His will was now certified and unable to be changed. The legal department at Gringotts would have it put up on a wall and no one, unless they were allowed top security and access to the department, would even be able to see it without being called forth by Graken, the head of all legal affairs in Gringotts._

"_Well that settles it then, all personal effects including the Firebolt, the Invisibility cloak, and items of sentimental and material value will be left to Mr. Ronald Weasley. All textbooks or items of knowledgable or academic value will go to Miss Hermione Granger. And finally the property left to you by Sirius Black, including his personal effects and home, the sword of Godric Gryffindor and the fortune left to you by your parents and any remaining money deposited into your vault in Gringotts will be left to Miss Ginevra Weasley," Graken said with a flick of his wand, making the stone tablet dissolve and leave a simple piece of parchment in its place._

_Harry nodded, shook the goblins hand silently and watched as he left. He felt an odd sense of peace knowing it was finished, but he couldn't stop his knees from shaking._

"_Harry…"_

_He turned at the sound of the tiny voice coming from behind him. Ginny was standing in the back doorway, staring at the piece of parchment on the table with wide, brown eyes. Her hands were shaking and Harry rushed forward to grab the plate from her before she dropped it._

"_You were supposed to be outside," he murmured as he began to scrub the dish in the sink the muggle way._

"_I….I c-came to get in to get a piece of the tart Mum made…" she stammered, crossing her arms across the front of her lime green sweater._

"_Harry,"_

"_I don't want to talk about it, Ginny," he snapped, sounding far harsher than he meant to and instantly regretted his tone when she shrank back._

"_You can't think that you're going to die, you can't think like that…"_

_He couldn't bring himself to look at her. He knew if he looked at her face, looked into those eyes that always made him melt he would cry. He knew if he looked at Ginny he wouldn't be able to stop himself from holding her and telling her that everything would be all right if they were just together. He couldn't bring himself to justify putting her in danger. So, rather than looking at her and rushing into her arms, he turned on his heel and walked away._

"_You think you're going to die. You're getting ready to die," Ginny said softly, unable to stop her voice from cracking and unable to stop the tears from welling up in her eyes._

_He was preparing to lose, preparing to leave them behind with only memories of him. And he wouldn't even let her console him. He had already left, even though he was still there._

Ginny snuggled herself in between the bookshelf and the wall. Everyone had been pointing and staring. It was a flashback to the time after she'd been rescued from the Chamber of Secrets. It was easier to hide than face the staring people with confidence that she didn't have.

She hadn't seen him during the day and she couldn't help but wonder if that was a good thing or not. He was the reason for her new found insanity and instability. But she still was head over heels in love with him. The way she felt about him was the kind of thing people read about in pathetic, paperback romance novels. All she saw when she closed her eyes were his piercing lobes staring back at her from behind those adorable round frames.

She could imagine him. She imagined him very, very well. She imagined how he felt, how his arms were shaped, how he danced, and tasted and how he smelled. Harry was something she was mysteriously drawn to. She didn't understand how Harry could attract her like no one else. The magnetism between the two of them was something she knew people only dreamed of, and it tore her apart to not be able to act on it.

She hadn't talked to him all year except for that fleeting moment in the carriage. She couldn't decide if she was avoiding him or if it was the other way around. Ginny wasn't making an effort to talk to him, but Harry wasn't exactly throwing himself at her either. She didn't know who this Harry was. She hoped he was the same, but she didn't know if he actually was.

Most of all though she just wanted to hear that he was hurting too, that he wasn't as completely collected and fine as he seemed to be. That he hadn't already moved on, that he was still thinking about her. She wanted to hear that she mattered to him at least as much as he always would to her.

Things were too hard.

She didn't know what to do with the things that reminded her of their time as a couple. Did she give him back the sweater that he'd wrapped around her shoulders at a particularly cold Quidditch practice? Did the frame holding the photo of them in Hogsmeade dancing inside The Three Broomsticks belong to him or her? Was she supposed to rip the pages that he had written notes to her out of the old Transfiguration book? How was she supposed to move on with things oozing of Harry all around her?

She wanted to scream. She wanted to rip him apart for making her feel this pathetic, and at the same time she wanted to grab him and kiss him all over again. Ginny couldn't make a move towards him but yet he was the only guy she'd ever felt that sort of desire for. That's really what she yearned and needed to do. She needed to show him desire. That true, burning passion that she felt for him was something she didn't believe other people could really understand. He made her feel like she was on fire.

Every time he ignored her, she broke. Every time he laughed as if they had not happened she could feel tears welling up. She didn't know what he was thinking but she was pretty sure she was nowhere near those thoughts. She just wanted to ask him to feel something, to ask that he felt as broken as she did.

Every day Harry Potter made Ginny Weasley feel completely dispensable. He was done with her and she was not done with him. He hadn't opened up enough to hurt though, at least she could hold on to that.


	12. Eleven

Big, long author's note at the end, so I'll keep this short and sweet.  
Thank you to ReadingRobyn for all your hard work as a beta, you're the best.  
Everything you recognize belongs to Miss J.K. Rowling.

Read&Review Please&Thanks  
.:x:.

Ginny sat in the Hog's Head refusing to talk to anyone. She knew that she was mostly safe in the bar, but more importantly she knew that few people who would come in would recognize her. The only students from Hogwarts that were regulars to the notoriously grungy pub were the members to the "alternative" crowd at the school. They were the students who would listen to music that screamed and would match their House colors with shades that purposely crashed. The alternative crowd wore their hair in their face and would always be found in the corner of the pub doing shot after shot of Ice Liqueur, the alcoholic opposite of Firewhiskey.

Ginny turned over another shot glass after downing the liquid and shuddered. No one bothered asking her how old she was; the bartender just understood her silent desperation and kept passing shots of mystery liquor to her silently. Ginny hugged her coat around her shoulders tightly and looked down at the six empty tumblers that were staring back at her. She squeezed her eyes shut quickly when she thought she saw Lela's grey eyes glaring at her from the reflection in the glass.

_You can't get away from me, Ginny Weasley, just accept it._

"Shut up...shut up…" Ginny muttered. She felt her cheeks flush when she realized the bartender had heard her pleas to no one.

He placed another shot in front of her and wiped his grimy hands on the apron he wore.

"Take enough of 'em and the voices'll stop," he said in a gruff but sincerely kind tone. "Prolly not good fer a girl like ya, but I ain't gonna be the one to try an' stop ya."

She managed to give him a small smile before tossing the alcohol back. It didn't burn on the way down like she expected, but she could feel it slide down in an eerily greasy way. It was almost as if she'd swallowed oil, oil that tasted like cinnamon mixed with metal.

"What have you been giving me?" she managed to cough out at him.

"Called Sag, dunno where from," he put two more shots in front of her and walked into the back room.

Ginny stared at the silvery liquid and shook her head as Lela's voice came back into her ears.

_Take them; I'm not going away just because you're drinking. I told you I wouldn't leave Ginny, and I fully intend on keeping that promise._

Ginny was shaking her head so furiously now she didn't notice when the boy slid onto the stool next to her. She didn't see him when he leaned his elbows against the bar in order to stare at her more comfortably. She was not aware of his presence until he put a hand on her shoulder and she jumped away.

"What the hell," she spat out as her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

The boy quickly swallowed a laugh. He had dark brown eyes that were still staring intently at Ginny; they were so dark they were almost black. His hair was black and messy, but the kind of messy that clearly had been made to look that way. His skin was a creamy white and his lips were a very light pink. He was very attractive, and the devious smile that was on his face showed that he obviously knew it.

Ginny couldn't help but notice the green and silver tie hiding behind his black sweater vest. The boy who was wearing cut up fishnet stockings as gloves underneath his colored shirt was a Slytherin.

"I just wanted to know if you needed any help with those shots," he said in a strangely low voice. She had expected someone who clearly spent so much time concerning themselves with how they looked to speak more femininely.

She shook her head, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. "No, I'm fine. I can handle them."

He gave another sly, crooked smile that only went on the right side of his face. "Well it seemed like you were giving an adamant no to them."

Ginny instantly stared at the floor and began to wring her hands, forcing her nails to scratch at her wrist.

"I wasn't saying no to them…I was…"

"It's okay; everyone in here is a little crazy. Nothing to be ashamed of."

She looked back at the boy were narrowed eyes. "I'm _not_ crazy."

He laughed. The sound of it sent chills down her spine.

"I'm _not_," she repeated in a low, suddenly steady voice.

He shrugged and tossed back one of her shots easily and handed her the empty glass. "Darling, we're not judging, just flirting. But if the voices in your head aren't company enough, feel free to join us over there."

With that he walked away to a table where two other boys were sitting. The other two she knew, they were Ravenclaw twins in her grade. She couldn't remember their names exactly but she knew they were something like Lyle or Luke. They were both infamous for be able to cheat on exams without ever being caught and for the fact that they were orphaned when their werewolf father attacked their mother. They were the poster children for daddy issues.

Maybe being with people who had bigger problems than her was just what she needed.

She tossed back the remaining shot of Sag and stood, smoothing the wrinkles out of her jeans. She didn't know why she felt compelled too, but she followed the mystifying boy over to the table. Perhaps it was because she was starting to feel dizzy and lightheaded from the liquor, but she needed another distraction. Besides, the boy with the dark, chocolate eyes was right, the voice (now this would stay voice because she knows it's only one.) in her head was definitely not company enough.

"We're going to need a lot more to drink," she said as she plopped down in the empty chair and she saw the boy smile.

"I'm Dodger," he said as he twisted the metal spike that was in his earlobe. "Those are Leaf and Lucas."

The twins nodded at her and each of them put a shot in front of her.

"Keep up, Weasley," one of them said, though she wasn't sure which one he was.

She ran her hands through her hair and tossed both of them back. She figured it wouldn't be a problem. All the liquor in the world couldn't numb Ginny enough from the terrible feeling of being left behind by Harry and for finally realized she was completely crazy.

Ginny awoke with a start. She sat up straight in bed until she became aware of her situation and realized the most terrible feeling for a girl to realize.

She was naked, and did not remember falling asleep.

She quickly recoiled against the headboard of the unfamiliar bed and wrapped the sheet around her torso. She still felt tingly from the liquor, but no longer was warm. She was freezing and scared.

_Good job, Ginny. I'm so proud of you for finally slutting it up._

She silently cursed Lela for making her more embarrassed about her circumstances. She looked over and saw Dodger sleeping soundly. The hazy memories of the previous hours came rushing back to Ginny even though she didn't need them to know what had happened. She grabbed her hair and absentmindedly pulled it into a knot on the back of her head, pushing the guilt from her mind and searched the floor for her pants.

_They're by the door, stupid. Remember, you two didn't get far._

"Lela, no one asked you," she snapped as she pulled her jeans on. She quickly hissed at herself for being so noisy and shut her mouth. Dodger barely flinched.

Ginny pulled her shirt over her head and stuffed her bra her pocket. She tiptoed around the room and grabbed her sweater and shoes before exiting the room as quickly and quietly as she could. Something told her Dodger would barely remember her face, much less her name. Somehow it made it easier to leave and easier to not feel bad about what had happened.

Maybe if he didn't remember, then it didn't happen.

Whether it was the alcohol or something else, Ginny didn't regret it. As she pushed through the portrait hole and made her way down the unfamiliar hallway from the Slytherin quarters, she didn't feel like she owed anyone an apology or felt like she was any different. She just felt empty, and that wasn't any different then when she had gone into the Hog's Head in the first place.

Being with Dodger didn't make her feel better, but it didn't make her feel worse though either. It was just a little reminder than if Harry could do what he wanted, so could she. It was a reminder, a sort of solidification in Ginny's mind that even though she felt like she was falling apart, she still had at least an ounce of control over what she did.

If she didn't have choice, she had nothing.

Ginny walked around the hallways, not even trying to be quiet. For some reason she was not worried about the consequences of being caught out of her room after hours, stinking like a bar no less. She didn't feel or care about anything, it was oddly liberating.

_It's just you and me. I, for one, am proud of you for finally doing something other than pining for Potter._

Ginny couldn't help but giggle at Lela. Dodger had been wrong; the voice in her head was really all the company she needed.

"Ginevra Weasley!"

Ginny turned around slowly to face Professor McGonagall. She pushed back a giggle, though she had no idea where it had come from. Running into the head of her house at three in the morning while she was still drunk was no laughing matter, but the urge to snigger kept coming.

"What on earth are you doing out of bed? And what is that smell?"

McGonagall's nose twitched and her eyes widen when she recognized the burning smell of Firewhiskey.

"Miss Weasley…have you been drinking?"

Ginny nodded and shrugged. "Firewhiskey and Sag. Sorry Minerva, it won't happen again."

Professor McGonagall's mouth pressed into that thin line that meant she was truly angry. "Miss Weasley at this school we address our superiors with respect, which means you are to call me Professor McGonagall. Now, given what you've been through lately I'm willing to excuse this little mishap and not deduct points if you head straight to bed. We will, however, be discussing detentions in the morning, after you've slept this off."

A giggle made its way past Ginny's lips and she clapped a hand over her mouth as she continued to laugh. McGonagall's pursed mouth formed even thinner lines which, for whatever reason, made Ginny laugh harder. She laughed until her sides hurt while her head of house just stared at her. She laughed until the remaining air started to become loud, painful hiccups, which just made her chuckle even harder than before.

"I don't care, do whatever you want. I'm fine, really, I'm fine," Ginny managed to say between her giggles and hiccups. "There's apparently nothing I can do that will bother me, nothing I can say that will make anyone listen. I can do whoever and whatever I want and I still feel like a bloody statue, isn't that funny? So _Minerva_, do whatever _you_ want to. Because I really don't give a damn."

And then Ginny puked all over the floor.

**(A/N: **So, why write a high T drunken chapter for our heroine? I felt this chapter may need a little bit of explanation, so here it is.

As a girl, I'm sure many of you can relate to this, you take a really bad break-up ten times harder than you would usually expect to. I think pretty much every girl who has had her heartbroken can relate to feeling out of control, hysterical, crazy, wild, pathetic, or all of those at the same time. And when those emotions take over there really is no telling what you'll do.

I'm sorry if the concept of having a one night stand offends anyone, but I know I'm not the first person who went out and got smashed and screwed some guy she barely knew to try and escape from loving an ex, and I'm not going to be the last to do. I can relate to it and hopefully others can to, whether they've done it or not. I hope some can relate to the feelings in this section.

My Ginny is not a Mary-Sue, and she is not two dimensional. She makes mistakes. I also did not want to keep writing whiny "I'm so scared" Ginny. Because after a while, you stop being scared of being crazy and just accept and roll with it. This chapter is Ginny moving past depression and onto acceptance, in a way. She's still scared, lonely, and sad, but now she's willing to live with feeling that way.

PS: I listened to Lady Gaga's song "Dance in the Dark" on repeat while writing this, so maybe that will help.**)**


	13. Twelve

I'm terrible.  
I'm so, **so **sorry it's taken me so effing long to post a new chapter. I've been having a really terrible case of writer's block when it comes to this story. I've been writing, just out of order. I promise I'm not abandoning it, just working at a slower pace. But enough of me whining.

Thank you, thank you to ReadingRobyn for putting up with me and being an amazing beta.  
Everything recognizable (which shouldn't be a lot in this chapter) belongs to JKR.

Please Review, Please Critique. It really helps me to know what to do next or at least inspires me to keep going even when I'm frustrated.  
.:x:.

_Three Weeks Ago…_

Celia Cornwall made her way through the halls of Saint Mungos. She had put on high heels and had worn her glasses in an attempt to look smarter, more professional. She was clutching her file like a life line; her knuckles were almost white from her grasp. She kept her lips pursed in a fine line and silently refused to loosen her grip on the file for fear that if she did she would pass out from her nerves.

Her heels click clacked on the marble floors, drawing attention from the other nurses. Few knew about her plan, she didn't know who to trust with her information and thoughts.

If she was right, exposing it could bring out something terribly frightening. She not only did not want to worry anyone, she didn't want to have anyone come after her.

She came to the elevator, the bellman didn't even have to ask for her clearance pass anymore. He drew the door closed, barring a plump nurse who was trying to get on with her cart of medications.

Normally Celia would've struck up a friendly conversation with Barrett, the bellman, in order to distract her from her daily work in the Shadow Wing. Today though, she was solemn, quiet and stared unwaveringly at the elevator doors. He knew from the distance she kept not to ask questions.

She didn't even hear him wish her good day as she walked briskly into the empty hallway of the Shadow Wing. She didn't look back to apologize for her iciness, she kept walking to her destination.

Celia was fairly certain she knew what the outcome of the meeting would be. No one would believe her, either because of the absurdity of it all, or simply because it would be too dreadful to believe. She would have to continue on with her days, giving medication and assisting in the analysis of her patients and she would have to pretend like Angela Christensen never happened. She would have to force herself to believe that Angela was really just crazy, and nothing more. Celia did not know if she could go on believing that there was nothing they could have done for Angela or just that there was no one to blame for what had happened to her.

Celia walked to the end of the hall and went through the giant steel doors, entering the board room. The head healers were all sitting around the arch shaped mahogany table looking intently at the door. Their gazes did not falter as Celia came into the room. Everyone was somber and there was a general cold feeling wafting around them.

Celia exhaled slowly as she made her way to the podium in the center of the room. Ebenezer Earnest sat directly in front of her with his hands folded on his lap. His gaze was not bored or focused, but in between as he watched her pull out different papers from her manila folder.

Celia pulled a picture out from the stack of papers and levitated it into the air. With another flick from her wand she enlarged the picture by ten sizes. There was a quick gasp from one of the healers, two averted their eyes, and one coughed uncomfortably at the picture of Angela Christensen laying on the muggle autopsy table with her organs on display.

"How vulgar," one witch whispered, covering her mouth as the color drained from her face.

"Yes, I'd have to agree," Celia said coolly as she turned to face the rest of the room. "What happened to Angela Christensen was absolutely horrendous. What's worse though, is that we did not stop it."

She let the photo linger for a few moments before waving her wand and causing it to disappear. She thought she heard a sigh of relief as she pulled out her notes. Ebenezer's gaze had not budged and was unchanged.

"Because of our lack of investigation Angela Christensen hung herself three weeks ago. Because of our inability to see beyond the surface her parents took her body back to the United States where muggles attempted to find out what we could not; why she died. Yes, suicide was the reason, but what drove this young girl to that fate is still technically a mystery.

"I'm here with you all today because I believe I know what happened to Miss Christensen. I believe her death could have been prevented, I believe we could have done more. I will present my findings and my hypothesis and, hopefully, you will believe me too."

She took a deep breath and flicked another picture into the air. This one was from an old textbook she'd found in a seedy little bookstore in Knockturn Alley, though she'd never tell anyone she'd been there. Even thinking of the way it had stunk of death made her shudder.

The illustration was of two witches. One was standing at the opposite end of the pictured room with her wand at the ready; it appeared that she was casting a spell on the other who was lying on a sofa sleeping. There was an apparition of the witch who was awake hovering above the two of them, and it appeared it was floating into the sleeping woman's body. The caption below the drawing read:

"Hosting. Host body and Idler in process of transfer."

Celia stared firmly at the board, holding her ground. Almost all of them were staring at the photo with their mouths gaping. One witch, who'd always been kind of a nightmare in Celia's opinion, rolled her eyes and clearly tuned out. When she looked at Ebenezer one of his eyebrows simply twitched, it was the only reaction she got from him.

"I know what most of you must be thinking. There is no proof that hosting still exists. There is no proof that hosting has even happened since the Imperius Curse does the same thing with far less effort from the Idler.

"I believe that someone was using Angela Christensen as a host body. We know that someone named Sara was communicating with her through a dream world. Well I believe this Sara character was actually a Death Eater that was attempting to get to Carson McNamara, Miss Christensen's boyfriend.

"When Miss Christensen was admitted to Saint Mungos we did a full medical evaluation to rule out poisons, potions, spells, illness, etcetera etcetera. I do not need to remind you that we found nothing. There was absolutely no reason that she should have been fighting a mental illness, and we would have discovered the source if it was foreign.

"We failed, however, to look into who Mr. McNamara was as fully as we should have."

Celia flicked her wand again bringing up a photo of the well known Aurors from the Ministry of Magic. She drew a circle around two of the faces creating a red frame around them. The woman's face was so angular and her hair was such a striking blonde that Celia would not have had to point her out, she stuck out enough. All though she did not have a smile on her face, her eyes were beaming as she looked at the handsome man who was grinning from ear to ear next to her.

"Electra and Maxwell McNamara are not only two of the best Aurors in the country; they are one of the biggest threats to You-Know-Who and his army. You see, Electra's maiden name is Malfoy. Her older brother is Lucius Malfoy, a proud supporter of You-Know-Who. Electra and her husband have been missing for sometime; but a source who wishes to remain anonymous assures me that they are all right, they are simply hiding from the Malfoys and the Death Eaters who want to make sure they will not compromise any plans she? Who is she? could know about."

"I'm sorry, what could she possibly compromise?"

Celia turned to face Ebenezer. His hands were now above the table and he was pressing his fingers together in an arch while he furrowed his brows.

"Excuse me?" The question had shaken her up a bit.

"If she is a successful Auror and is not, that we know of, a Death Eater, we can safely assume she and her brother have been out of contact for some time. If that is the case, how she could compromise plans? Why would they want to get rid of her for any other reason than that she is not on their side?"

Celia nodded quickly and more eagerly than she had intended to look.

"I asked that myself. Thankfully Carson proved to be a valuable source of information."

Ebenezer raised his left eyebrow ever so slightly. "You found him?"

"I did," Celia continued. "He is safe and sound, though I cannot say his location as he's been in hiding since the incident with Miss Christensen. His mother was a very crafty witch and planted bugs and other listening devices in the Malfoy residence the last time she'd tried to reconcile with her brother. She had planned on getting enough evidence against their family to send Lucius and his wife to Azkaban. Needless to say, Luicius found out and went after her. But she and Maxwell had run and, to this day, no one that does not have either clearance with the Ministry or them personally knows where they are.

"Carson was going to be a bargaining chip. He told me that when Miss Christensen came to him the night before she was institutionalized she was not going to kill him, she was looking for his parents. She had been casting Cruciatus Curses on him and telling him that she would kill him if he did not divulge their location to her.

"And then she came to and stopped, horrified at what had been going on. Those were his exact words.

"People don't just "come to" from the Imperius Curse or potions. And if she were disassociating as can be the case with mental illness she would not have changed as a person, strength wise, ability wise or physically. Hosting, as bizarre as it may seem, actually adds up when you look at the symptoms and occurrences.

"The first clue is simple; her eyes were never glazed over in the way they are when someone is under the Imperius Curse, so we can officially rule that out."

Celia wanted to smile; she could tell that she had their complete attention. But she kept going on, ready to finally take action.

"Next we can rule out Potions because unless she had nothing in her system when she came to us we would have found a toxin or something foreign in her body. Even the slightest irregularity would've prompted more testing and we would have found it. So whatever was causing her behavior had to be coming from her, it had to be something internal whether it was mental illness or something else.

"But Angela changed. She was able to perform magic far beyond her ability as a witch, including causing things to happen without the assistance of a wand. Her eyes changed color, her appearance changed. She was not in control of the things that happened to her.

"I believe that a Death Eater became an Idler in Angela's body, using her weakened state to gain access to her mind and to force her to do things against her will.

"Hosting is not simple by any means. As an Idler the Death Eater would have had to first transfer a piece of themselves into her, which would allow them access to her thoughts and dreams. In everything I've read about Hosting most commonly people share blood somehow, all Angela would have had to do was inhale the molecules and if they had the right incantation placed on them it would have begun the process.

"The Idler will then have to keep learning about her mind, which is why it is such a slow process. It can take weeks, even months, before the Idler is able to control anything. Before they know how her thoughts work, how her mind works, they can just manipulate the thoughts, not actually control them or the Host's motor functions.

"The most frightening thing about Hosting is that it is virtually impossible to detect. Only the Host will know what is going on and if their Idler is skilled enough, they can stop their Host from letting the symptoms show. Symptoms are not well known, because they vary from case to case. But erratic behavior, changed appearance, mania, and amnesia are all staples of Hosting. The only other solid thing is that all Hosts should have, according to legend, is an irregular dilation of their irises, because of the way their brains are being compromised."

Celia exhaled sharply. She hadn't realized that she'd been breathing so sporadically. She stared at the faces of the board, they all looked back at her with wide, slightly worried eyes except for Ebenezer who closed his and rubbed his forehead with a wrinkly hand.

"Nurse Cornwall, I must first commend you on a very well put together presentation," he said slowly. "Unfortunately I must inform you that your findings today are of no use to us. Unfortunately you are probably right; Miss Christensen was probably a host body to a Death Eater who was acting as an Idler in order to find the McNamara's. But we are not the Ministry, we are not Aurors. We can do nothing for people who are not sick.

"What happened to Miss Christensen was horrifying. That is one of the terrible consequences of war though, people will die. Unfortunately, a young, innocent witch was one of those casualties. Unfortunately She is probably not the first one who has been taken over against his or her will; unfortunately and she will probably not be the last. And unfortunately, The only thing I can offer you is a congratulations on being far more observant that I. But fortunately, if your findings are correct, Miss Christensen's Idler was unsuccessful and the McNamara's are safe. So please, look at that and not that there is nothing we can do for your case. We cannot spend time researching something that is not medical when there are actual sick people who need our help. I'm sorry, but I am enforcing my right as head of the board and denying your request to look into this case any further."

.:x:.

Hermione stared back at Nurse Cornwall with her mouth hanging open.

"So if…if this is happening to Ginny, what do..d-do I do?" She stuttered as she spoke.

Nurse Cornwall shook her head sadly. "I'm not sure. Everything I've read says that your friend, Ginny right? Your friend needs to expel the Idler herself, no one can take care of it but her. Perhaps you can help convince her to do so, but that's all I can offer you."

Hermione nodded and stood, placing her now ice cold cup of coffee that Nurse Cornwall had given her on a table.

"I just wanted to make sure you knew what I knew, I couldn't bear seeing another girl I can't help come in here like that," Nurse Cornwall said softly, staring at her white apron. "I hope you can get her to stop whoever is doing this to her, because if what you told me is true, I think we both know what they're after."

Hermione's mind was already racing, because someone was in control of Ginny and they were after Harry.

And they were both running out of time.


End file.
